


To Walk a Mile in Your Stilettos

by Le_kunokimchi



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves Friendship, Ben Hargreeves' Tentacles | Bentacles, Ben-centric, Brotherly Bonding, Enemies to Friends, Gen, Good Sibling Ben Hargreeves eventually.., Good Sibling Klaus Hargreeves, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Klaus Hargreeves Deserves Better, Klaus tries his best, No Incest, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Season/Series 02 Spoilers, Time Skips, Warnings May Change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:48:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24420817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Le_kunokimchi/pseuds/Le_kunokimchi
Summary: You can learn a lot about yourself when you die; Ben learned that he needed to stop seeing Klaus as a rival and start seeing him as a brother. After all, that is what Four has seen him as since the very beginning.It just took Six some time to understand because before you judge a man, you must walk a mile in his shoes. And unfortunately, Klaus wore some very... difficult shoes.
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves
Comments: 55
Kudos: 352





	1. The Sleep Leech

**Author's Note:**

> So... this idea came to me and I just had to stop and wonder... were Ben and Klaus always close or was it not until Ben could see things through Klaus's eyes that he finally understood him? I hope you enjoy my take on things~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A peaceful night's rest... that's all Six has asked for.  
> He never realized that Four was wishing for the same thing.

The Hargreeves children were never astonishingly close with each other growing up. They weren’t raised to be siblings, after all. Weren’t they just rivals? Competitors living under the same roof, sharing the same mentor? They had to focus on themselves, their own prosperity, their own success. There was no time to bond and form a relationship. It was all just a distraction, a weakness. They must excel. They must be the best. They must make their father proud.  
“You will be the best you can be. And my expectations will always be exceptionally high so do not disappoint me.”  
The fear of disapproval, the fear of failure, the fear of uselessness: this, this is what drove them.  
And the small but powerful Number Six was no exception.  
He wanted approval more than anything, he wanted to make his father and his older brothers (by milliseconds) proud. And if that meant showing no signs of softness, so be it. He had to fit in. He had to have their respect and praise. Even if that meant he had to keep most of his unpopular opinions to himself. Even if that meant he had to keep his true self to himself. Even if that meant he had to be quiet but always vigilant, listening but always indifferent.  
And while he remained seamless with the background, Number Four was most certainly not. And while he kept his fears, nightmares, and doubts to himself, Number Four did anything but.  
So you can imagine Six’s frustration when he was informed that he would be sharing a room with his cry-baby brother.  
“But why me? Why not have him share a room with One or Two?” The boy remembered pleading to his robotic mother, hoping that she’d reconsider. He wanted nothing to do with Four; he’d only cause him trouble.  
“Your brother gets scared at night and I think he’ll feel comforted knowing his strong and kind brother is right there to protect him,” Grace had replied with a smile, placing a hand affectionately on his cheek.  
“But One and Two are-”  
“You and your brother have a lot more in common than you realize, dear; things in common that your other siblings will never truly understand.” He had wanted to scream at such a comparison but bit his tongue; he would never be like Four, NEVER.  
“I won’t be able to sleep… he’ll just scream all night like he always does.”  
“Perhaps, or perhaps he will feel safe. And perhaps when the monsters are scaring you as well, you could seek refuge in each other.”  
He wasn’t convinced, not one bit. And, quite obviously, neither was Four as he sat up abruptly in his bed at one in the morning whimpering and crying like the weakest child he was; at least Seven showed no sign of emotions at all (Six would rather die than admit it but he had always secretly admired her mental fortitude).  
A good sibling would comfort him, a good sibling would care. But they weren’t siblings, not in Six’s eyes. Four was just a burden; the epitome of pitifulness. Four would never be his brother. So, he rolled over and placed a pillow on his ears to drown out the medium’s sorrows. After about thirty minutes of continuous blubbering though, it became apparent that the “quiet and reserved” Six wasn’t going to solve this one.  
“Shut up, just shut up!” The smaller boy had snapped but if Four heard him, he didn’t show it; he continued to sob and hiccup and squirm in his bed.  
The Asian sat up and glared at the shaking form in the bed across the room. “Stop it! There’s nothing even there!”  
“They’re everywhere! They are in that corner, on my bed, under your’s, hanging from the tree outside the window, in the hallway- everywhere.”  
“N-No they’re not,” Six struggled to deny, beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable, “You’re just imagining them…!”  
“Just because you can’t see something, doesn’t mean it’s not really there. And they are here, they are always here. Always screaming, always yelling, always following me around, always following you guys around!”  
Number Six said no more after that. Four was disturbing; what he said was disturbing. He could see and speak to the dead, right? So surely he wasn’t bluffing, right? Trying to make everyone creeped out and apprehensive? Were dead people really following them around? Does Four see all of the Horror’s victims? He didn’t want to think about it. Six never tried to speak to Four during the night again; he requested for earplugs the next day.

`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.

“Good afternoon Sixy, would you mind if I read with you?”  
The pleasant little bubble Six had found himself in immediately popped with the disturbance; he knew exactly who it was, from the second his irritatingly bubbly voice invaded his eardrums. And he knew he couldn’t ignore him, because the mini-medium doesn’t listen to social cues like that or he just overlooks them with his incessantly pushy personality.  
Was it really too much to ask for a moment where he didn’t have to see his cheeky face in the one hour they are granted to themselves? Of course it was; who is he kidding? This is Number Four for crying out loud; the wailing ghost-seeing crybaby by night and the flippant talk-till-your-ear-falls-off plague by day.  
It was bad enough that the sixth Hargreeves was stuck sharing a room with the most exasperating megaphone known to man, but now, he couldn’t even get away by hiding in the library. Four always finds him, somehow… 

Oh if only he was a little more physically aggressive like his other superpowered siblings: then Four would probably seek out some other sorry sap to bother.

The Asian boy glared as he looked up from his novel. “Yeah, I would-”  
“Great! Then I’ll just sit right here,” Four interrupted cheerfully, plopping down onto the seat across from him.  
Six rolled his eyes before his gaze shifted to the object in his sibling’s hands: one of Three’s magazines.  
“That’s not even a book,” He stated blandly, his nose wrinkling in disgust.  
“Does it have to be? Reading is about the enjoyment of a piece, not the form of literature it’s presented in, right?”  
Six hated the fact that he couldn’t think of anything remarkably impressive to say to that, he hated the fact that Four was absolutely right even more. But he was much too prideful to let his sibling use his love for literature against him; no, if he couldn’t win by spouting out comebacks that proved his superior intelligence, then he was going to use the Hargreeves specialty: go straight for the jugular. If you wound a man’s dignity, he’ll seek refuge in others that have yet to bear witness to the weak spot. And that’s what Number Six hoped Four would do: feel so insecure and exposed that he would flock to someone else and wouldn’t want to haunt Six’s every waking move (no pun intended).  
“You’re a boy,” Six pointed out, lifting a brow snobbishly, “Only girls read those types of magazines.” He waited a few moments, eyeing the child in front of him with a sense of satisfaction and smugness.  
But then Four laughed; no, more giggled… He giggled in that infuriating way Four does; all right in Six’s face.  
The Asian felt the tips of his ears and back of his neck flush in embarrassment at being so blatantly laughed at. Why was he laughing? What could have been so funny about his masculinity being swiped against a cheese grater? His hands clenched tightly around the cover of his book as he demanded, “What’s so funny?”  
“The idea that you believe everything Daddy dear says… Although,” Four peered at the book in his brother’s hands, a lightness in his eyes that completely lacked the cynical fire Six’s had, “if I remember correctly, didn’t he say romance novels are for girls too?”

Six’s eyes widened in humiliated fury, shutting the book with a loud thud before chucking it aside in an attempt to hide the evidence. “It wasn’t a romance,” He hissed as his cheeks burned an angry scarlet. It was a defense mechanism to lie, to try and convince the other that they had misseen something but he was painfully aware that shady tricks such as those were not going to make this situation any better; Four caught him red-handed. 

“Really?” Four played along with a shit-eating grin, “I mean, I always thought Romeo and Juliet should be considered a thriller; Romeo was kind of a perverted stalker-”  
“You tell anyone about this and I’ll make sure you’ll never sleep with a nightlight again.”  
Four just squeaked an “Understood,” before Six stormed out of the library for their next training session; the only thing the medium feared more than the dark was the ghosts that resided in it. 

`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.

It was three in the morning when Six curled in on himself, attempting to tame the squirming beast inside him. The pain was unbearable as it pushed and pulled at his skin like it was a thin layer of plastic wrap covering some gnarly leftovers. He hissed as the foreign entity slithered up his ribcage, coiling around his heart.  
He bit down on his tongue to contain his whimpers. He didn’t want to wake Number Four; then he’d be the weak one hollering into the night.  
But he couldn’t stop the anguished cry that followed the light squeeze of the tentacle, taking his moment of infirmity as an opportunity to slip one of its brethren through the gate. Six yelped as it brushed against his leg and the boy convulsed and thrashed to forcefully close the portal around it; They reluctantly returned and he sat up immediately, gasping for air. He threw aside the covers, glancing warily at the still sleeping form on the bed across from him, before tiptoeing out of the room and down the hall. He snuck downstairs and barged into the infirmary, falling to his knees in front of the medicine cabinet.  
The Hargreeves children weren’t allowed access to any pharmaceuticals; anything they needed would be given to them by either Grace or Pogo. And to ensure nothing else would be taken, all of the cabinets and drawers were locked by a key only their mother and father had... so stealing it was out of the question.

Six desperately tugged on the lock, tears trickling down his face in frustration. He just needed some pain killers, maybe even some of Four’s sedatives. Why won’t the stupid cupboard door open? Why does their father have to be such a greedy bastard? Why does FOUR have to be such a greedy bastard? Who even decides whether an individual needs something or not?  
Maybe if he were to just let one single tentacle loose…  
As if on cue, the Horror twisted and protruded eagerly from his navel; the feeling was beyond uncomfortable and made Six wrap his arms tightly around himself to push it back in.  
Bad idea… definitely a bad idea. 

He glanced around the medical wing; there was a metal sink with locked drawers, glass jars of cotton balls and antiseptics on the tops of tall locked cabinets, a white cot with a steel cart housing all sorts of tools-  
Bingo. 

Six scrambled over to the rolling cart, rummaging through the utensils in search of something that could help him pick the lock. But when his eyes landed on some pliers, it dawned on him that he doesn’t know the first thing about lock picking; the only way he’s getting this thing open is if he breaks it.

He snatched the pliers and hurried back to the cabinet, putting the lock between the clamp and squeezing with all his might. But these weren’t bolt-cutters so snapping this steel would be no easy feat. He placed a hand on either handle and tried again, letting out a close-mouthed yowl at the dull ache spreading through his brachial muscles. “Come on,” he breathed, hearing the steel groan beneath his steady strain, “Just break you stupid piece of parental paranoia.”

There was a subtle shifting beneath the skin of his arms, the reminder causing Six to squeeze with new vigor. Something coiled within his palms, causing bile to rise to his throat in fear. “Break!” He cried desperately, “Break, break, break!”  
*Clink* Six exhaled in relief, fumbling with the broken lock as he tossed it and the pliers aside. The Asian boy threw open the door, rifling through the viles of liquid and containers of pills before finding the small box of sleep-aids. He downed two dryly, then turned to the painkillers to take two of those as well.  
The coiling in his hands dispersed and Six felt himself physically relax. He shut the cupboard, put back the broken lock, returned the pliers to the cart, and wandered back upstairs to bed.  
~  
The next morning, there was a heavy tension at the breakfast table. Everybody could detect that their father was in a bad mood: he came to the table late, waited a full five minutes of eating in silence before telling them they could sit, and then slammed down his newspaper to peer at them while they ate. 

It wasn’t until Six finished his piece of toast that their dear old Reginald decided to speak.  
“I will ask this once,” he stated sternly, lacing his fingers together as he focused on each one of their faces, “And if not a single one of you take responsibility, you all will be punished.”  
The children stopped eating, looking up at their father apprehensively. Perspiration began to gather on Six’s forehead as he wrung his hands beneath the table.  
“Somebody broke into the pharmaceuticals last night.” Six gulped, finding it hard to focus on anything other than his churning stomach. “Who did it? Speak up now.”

One and Two obediently kept eye-contact with their father as they waited for the perpetrator to confess; Three glanced curiously around the table once before settling on their father expectantly; Seven kept her head down as she glanced worriedly from sibling to sibling; Five continued eating nonchalantly; Six stiffened and bit the inside of his cheek; and Four, the always flippant and laid-back Number Four, stared at Six.  
The Asian avoided his gaze, filled with fear at being exposed, and a wave of threatening anger at the idea that his sibling was about to ruin his life even more.  
‘I knew he couldn’t have been sleeping last night,’ Six growled to himself, ‘Go on, do it; it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve screwed me over.’  
“You have five seconds or else everyone is running laps today. I will not tolerate this dishonesty and rebellious behavior.”

Nobody moved, accusatory glances being thrown at each other as Six watched his father’s gaze slowly settle upon him. The boy attempted to control his breathing, beginning to crack under the pressure of both Reginald and Four watching him.  
He sighed. If he didn’t say anything, Four would. He might as well confess and at least try to recover some of his father’s respect, right?  
Six opened his mouth to speak but another voice cut through the silence.

“Alright; I give, I give.” All eyes turned to the speaker, Six practically giving himself whiplash with how fast he turned his head.  
“Explain yourself, Number Four,” their father said, cold eyes glaring at his disappointment of a son in slight amusement.  
“I had a really bad headache last night,” he lied, his face the epitome of relaxed and determined, “And it was so late that I thought it would be rude of me to wake up Mother.”  
“And so you snapped a steel lock?”  
Six glanced quickly from his father back to Number Four; he didn’t sound convinced, not one bit.  
“Yep,” Four replied without skipping a beat.  
A sardonic smirk settled on Reginald’s face, causing Six to shiver.  
“Your imagination deceives you, Number Four. You are not strong enough to break such a lock.”  
‘Uh oh,’ Six began to panic again as he looked to his sibling with wide eyes. Why was Four doing this? Their father was going to find out eventually and then they were both going to get into trouble. ‘Stop lying, you idiot!’ He wanted to shout, ‘You’re only making it worse!’

But Four did not reflect his brother’s anxiety; in fact, he appeared to be enjoying himself.  
“That is correct: I am not strong enough.” He smiled then, a haunting curl of his mouth that always succeeded in making people uncomfortable with the almost maniacal look in his eyes, “So, I elicited some help from my friends on the other side.”  
Sir Reginald stared at him incredulously, “The dead?” he questioned.  
Four’s grinned widened, a sudden draft passing through the dining hall which caused the group to collectively shiver.  
Their father leaned forward slightly, his elbows pressed into the table as his eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe you.”  
“Would you like to bet?” the boy countered, slamming his hands onto the table with a crazed enthusiasm. His siblings jumped and Six could only watch in suspicion.  
‘What does he get out of this? What is he trying to prove? That he knows I’m a hypocrite? Is he trying to mock me?’

Reginald stiffened then, straightening his back to an impossibly linear position as a chill settled within the room. The other Hargreeves children glanced around, with the exception of Five who detachedly sipped his orange juice, as if expecting to see the ghostly beings themselves gathering around the table.  
“In my office Number Four,” their father ordered, “Now.”  
The medium stood, casually walking away from the table with a satisfied look on his face; although, and he may have imagined it, Six could have sworn he saw the slightest bit of fear in his eyes. 

Four’s presence didn’t appear for the rest of the day. Six was bitter as he came to the conclusion that Four must have pitied him and smugly displayed his fearlessness today to prove his shorter brother was the coward between the two of them. He would get him back for this; the weakest child does not get to mock him and get away with it. 

It was oddly quiet when he went to bed that night and, surprisingly, there was no crying that ripped him from his dreams in the early hours of the morning.


	2. Differing Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They faced different demons, struggled in different battles...  
> It was easy for Six to blame all of his mistakes on his brother  
> But in end, they both hated themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this one doesn't have as many time skips. It starts off right where the last one ended and then there's a small time-skip. The other two sections are subsequential with each other

Six woke up with a smile on his face. Something about not being woken up in the middle of the night could really put you in a good mood, he supposes. He expected to look over and be met with the sight of drowsy Four, leaned up against the wall with his knees tucked under his chin, drifting in and out of sleep like he most certainly was all night; instead, there was only an empty bed.  
Six blinked a few times, always considering himself the early-riser, but then shrugged. He didn’t really care, maybe he was in the bathroom or something; either way, his morning just got two-times better.

He hopped up out of bed and made his way to the closet, stepping around Four’s pile of clothes in disgust, before stripping and pulling on a clean uniform. Perhaps if he catches Mom early, she’d make waffles. Wouldn’t that make his day even better?

The boy hurried out of the bedroom, traveling down the hall and passing by the many closed doors on the way. It must have been really early; even Number One was still asleep. He went by the bathroom as he rounded the corner to the top of the staircase, seeing the door wide open and dark inside. Six hesitated in his advancement for a moment, his brow furrowing in curiosity at the empty room before him. Once again, he shrugged. It wasn’t his problem.

The lightness in his step lingered as he traveled down the stairs, hearing humming and the familiar clacking of heels in the kitchen. That’s strange, was Mom already making breakfast? He entered the kitchen, stopping dead in his tracks as he saw Four sitting on the counter while their mother whisked away at a batter. 

“Oh good morning sweetie! What are you doing up so early?” the robot asked, sending him a warm smile.  
The Asian’s attention was elsewhere, he watched his sibling in slight suspicion, noting that he hadn't looked up since he walked in here; he just stared solemnly at the floor.  
“I had a good sleep… for once,” he replied slowly, waiting for any sort of reaction from the other boy. There was none.  
“That’s wonderful! Me and your brother are making waffles, would you like to join us?” she chirped, pausing from her mixing to look at him expectantly.  
Six walked farther into the kitchen, getting a good look at the German. Something was off; he was too quiet, too detached. It wasn’t like he cared, because he definitely did not, but it was annoying to be ignored.  
“Sure Mom,” he said as he returned her smile, “Wouldn’t want you to make breakfast all by yourself…” There, another dig, but still no response. Six huffed as he went to wash his hands; this was almost more annoying than Four talking his ear off. Has he ever been so quiet before?  
As he turned on the sink, his nose wrinkled slightly at the sight of his sibling’s dirty uniform from the corner of his eye. Did he sleep in that? Shouldn’t he change? What was he even doing?  
There were tears in the coat and strange stains dotting his tie; his face was covered in a thin layer of filth, his hair frazzled and matted; his lips appeared dry and cracked in places; his fingertips were practically black with all the grime beneath his fingernails; there were rusty colored spots on the ends of his sleeves as if the caked blood on his hands were from-  
Wait- caked blood? Surely he was mistaken, right? Maybe it’s fingerpaint? Six could try to deny it, but he knew better; he of all people should know exactly what dried blood looks like. 

But it wasn’t his problem. He doesn’t care. Don’t mistake his curiosity for concern.  
Hands now clean, Six reached behind the other’s head for a paper towel, subtly noting the bloodshot eyes and circles that were even darker than usual.

Four still hasn’t even acknowledged his presence; has he acknowledged their mother’s?  
Since when did Four ever wake up early? Since when did he ever help Mom cook? 

Six felt his morning slowly get worse.  
“Move, Four,” he mumbled, wanting to grab the pan behind the stagnant boy; he would rather die than admit that he was too short to reach around him. 

There was no response.  
"I said move," he growled, glaring up at the blank face that was still staring at the floor.  
There wasn't a single sign of acknowledgment from Four; no flicker of the eyes, no shifting of the jaw, and no adjusting of position. 

Six scowled, now angry with this harsher version of the silent treatment. "If you're not gonna help, at least get out of the way!" He snapped as he shoved at his sibling's side.  
But as soon as he made contact with his arm, Four let out a blood-curdling scream, recoiling like he had been burned; and although his eyes were unfocused, they began to dart around frantically in search of something that wasn't there before settling on Six in absolute horror. Six stumbled backward in shock and fear, landing roughly on his rump as he stared at the screaming, shaking, crying Number Four.

Six panicked as their mother set down the bowl with a frown, rushing over to the hysterical child to shush him.  
He couldn't move, he couldn't breathe, he could only watch as his sibling writhed beneath her gentle hands.  
Of course, people have always shown some apprehension around Number Six, he got the nickname "The Horror" for a reason… But never has one of his siblings ever looked at him in such terror, never has Four EVER reacted like this to ANY of their siblings. And it made Six's stomach churn and a feeling of guilt bloomed within his chest; but he would never say sorry because this was Four, he cried about everything right? He didn't really do anything, right? Just a small push, no big deal. He didn't hurt him, he didn't try to act scary. 

His downward spiral of thoughts was interrupted as five pairs of footsteps came barreling into the kitchen. They stopped and stared at the screaming figure, looking both bewildered and unsettled.

"Shhh Bumble Bee," Mom soothed, receiving a foot to the face as Four tried to desperately push away from her, "You wouldn't want to wake your father, would you?"

"H-Hey!" Two shouted, running into the kitchen as Four clawed and screamed at the robot.  
"What did you do to him?" Five asked, sounding more amused than accusing.  
"I-I…" Six just stared as both Mom and Two were now trying to restrain him, "I didn't d-do anything."

There was a shriek as Four thrashed about, Two holding him by the neck after he tried to bite him. 

"Number One!"  
All the children froze, Four included, as the stern voice boomed through the kitchen. They didn't have to turn around to hear the sharp clicks of their Father's cane.  
"What is the meaning of this?!" He shouted, casting a glare at the boy squirming and crying on the counter as Mom and Two backed away cautiously. 

"I don't know, we just found him like that," One answered, glancing between Six and his father.  
"Why are you on the ground, Number Six?"

Six clawed his brain for an excuse, not wanting to confess that his sibling scared him, that he fell backward from the sheer stupefaction and dread of being the reason behind Four's hysterical fit.  
He swallowed and lied between clenched teeth, "He pushed me."

His father's eyes narrowed as if he was briefly considering whether to lecture him on how disappointed he was, but then he glanced towards the droid who was waiting obediently nearby.  
"Grace, get the sedatives. It seems that Number Four was not ready to leave his special training after all."

That sent chills down Six's spine. Did his special training make him like this? Was that where he disappeared to yesterday? Did he even make it back to their room last night?  
Before he could contemplate any more, Seven was anxiously helping him up just as One and Two held down either side of their brother.  
Four kicked and screamed and yanked before resorting to shamelessly pleading and sobbing hoarsely,  
"Pleaseletmego please please nonononono."  
"I will not tolerate this tomfoolery, Number Four. Get a grip," Reginald scolded, moving aside as Grace came back with a syringe.  
"Don'ttakemebackPleaseI'llbebetterI'llbegoodIswearJustdon'ttakemeback I CAN'T GO BACK!"

Grace gripped his forearm, pinching the skin in preparation for the injection and Four began to thrash with new vigor; the tendons in his neck strained as he tossed his head back and screamed, "NO NO NO! STOP! LETGOLETGOLETGOLETGO!" Then his head whipped violently to the side at the empty space between Reginald and the wall, spatting, "IT'S YOUR FAULT, ALL YOUR FAULT. SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP!" The serum began to flow through his bloodstream, his movements becoming more languid and his words slurring as he vengefully mumbled, "Jushh go away… forever…. I can't- I can't help y-you."

Breakfast was quiet that morning, a silence beyond their 'no talking' rule. Nobody had much of an appetite; not even Six who was coincidentally served his… and Four's… favorite food. 

`•`•`•`•`•`•`•`•`•`•`•`•`

Six’s stomach did somersaults as he watched the scene unfold: they were closing in, they all were closing in; Five was exhausted, Two misplaced his last knife, One was injured, and now Three was cornered.  
He was up against a wall, hostages to the left, and his family to the right. He had to do something, HE HAD TO, but it was a 50% chance that an innocent or one of his siblings would get caught in the crossfire. He couldn’t control the tentacles once he let them out, he could just coax and suggest which people to go after and if they decided not to listen, well… then it was just another thing on his list of reasons why he hates himself.  
Perhaps he could do it without his powers?  
No, no way. They were all armed. He was outnumbered. But they were getting closer and he needed to do something about it quickly.  
There were so many guns-  
oh God, they’re pointing them at Two-  
He has to do something-  
DO SOMETHING-  
He felt the eldritch creatures swirl against his abdomen, practically begging to be released-  
He heard a click as the bad men took aim-  
Six bit his lip, took a deep breath, and then dropped the barrier.

The tentacles screeched in freedom as they burst forth from their host, splattering the armed man standing in front of Two and knocking three more into the wall with a sickening crunch. Blood rained down from above as two more tentacles took it upon themselves to rip a few of the men in half, chucking their mutilated carcasses aside before moving on to their next victims.  
Six cried out in pain as they kept coming forth from the portal, relentlessly demolishing everything in their path and staining the boy’s heart and mind crimson.

Through his tears, he could see his siblings crouched behind a desk, staring at him in fear; would they be next? Would Six be able to stop Them in time?  
His doubts distracted him from the objective at hand, four more tentacles slipping through to join their brethren in the massacre. Six squeezed his eyes shut to block out the horrific scene before him, drowning in the pain and screams and smashing of bones and red red red… red everywhere, everywhere…  
“Six!”  
And shouting? Shouting… someone was shouting… who was shouting?  
“Stop Six! They are dead!”  
Why are they shouting? What do they want? Are they calling him?  
“SIX!”  
Oh God oh God oh God; what has he done? WHAT HAS HE DONE?  
His eyes flew open at the frantic scream of Three, seeing that the creature had eliminated each one of their targets but was now moving on hungrily for more. Six panicked as They began to reach towards the hostages, the people blindfolded and gagged so unable to know of the cruel fate that awaited them.  
‘STOP!’ Six cried, attempting to mentally yank them back, “STOP! GO BACK! YOU’RE DONE, WE’RE DONE!’  
But it was no use, the tentacles picked up a large middle-aged lady and dangled her through the air as if they were taunting him; the women whimpered from behind her gag and squirmed desperately in an attempt at a risky getaway.  
“STOP THEM SIX! STOP THEM RIGHT NOW!” One demanded in a last-minute rage, now standing in front of their other siblings despite the bullet wound in his arm.  
‘Let her go, please, let her go. There will be other bad guys, I promise. Just let her go, you’ve done enough!’ The boy pathetically pleaded as his screams became more anguished with each passing second. The Horror stalled for a moment before tossing the woman and retreating back to their residence immediately.  
“NO!” Six shouted in terror as he watched her body fly flimsily through the air before hitting the wall with a loud crack, falling to the floor, limp. The Asian boy fell to his knees in disbelief, his blood running cold at the realization that she was dead… that he killed her… he killed a hostage… he killed an innocent… he lost control… HE. WAS. A. FAILURE. 

He heard his siblings rush towards him with a gasp, but he couldn’t look at them. What has he done? What has he done…

“H-Hey,” Two said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder, ‘Y-Y-You s-saved all of u-u-us. That h-h-has to count for s-something, r-right?”  
“Yeah Six,” Three agreed, kneeling down in front of him with sympathy in her eyes, “We owe you our lives. If you didn’t use the Horrors, then we’d all be dead. Sacrificed one life for many-”

“Jesus Christ, are you guys ok?”  
Everybody’s head turned towards the new voice, seeing Four enter the warehouse with a look of surprise and apprehension at the mosaic of blood and guts that littered the floor.  
“No thanks to you,” One muttered, narrowing his eyes, “I thought you were supposed to be look-out?”  
Four looked taken aback, not expecting so much hostility for checking on their wellbeing. Six immediately stiffened at the innocent startlement on his face.  
He was supposed to be look-out… The look-out… He was supposed to warn them of reinforcements- He was supposed to have their backs-

“I-I was looking out,” the German defended, nervously scanning each one of their faces but never meeting any of their eyes. He crossed his arms uncomfortably as Six stared at him.

The look-out should see a wave of armed men coming into the building- the look-out should give them a heads-up before they're cornered- the look-out shouldn’t be looking so guilty and-

“Then why did we not know about the-”  
“Where. Were. YOU?” Six seethed, standing up with his fists clenched at his sides.  
The others fell silent immediately, glancing from Six to Four in a hope to catch exactly what their brother was insinuating.

“I was here, duh-”  
Six’s jaw clenched in anger at the taller boy’s flippantness. “But you weren’t at the spot, were you?”  
“Well… uh… you see,” Four trailed, his gaze shifting rapidly around the room, “T-The roof was a little flimsy and I thought I might fall so-”  
“Stop lying!” he yelled, causing the medium to jump, “You just couldn’t bother to do your one job, huh? You just couldn’t be remarkably useful just this once?! You let us get cornered! You let them shoot One! You made me release the Horrors! You made me kill that woman!”

Four became a deer in headlights: frozen in place and staring at the furious boy with wide eyes. Their other siblings just watched helplessly: some agreeing with Six, others too hesitant or indifferent to the situation to want to be on the receiving end of the Horror’s rage.

“For what, huh? Some ghosts? A sandwich? A cigarette? It’s pathetic, you are absolutely pathetic! You couldn’t even do your one job. You couldn’t even listen to one, simple instruction! You’re so freaking useless, I don’t even get why you come! You’re too much of a baby to handle your powers, you’re too weak to be of use in combat. We do the hard work while you just sit there, we kill while you just sit there!”  
“I-”  
“But not this time! This time our pain, our exhaustion, our trauma- it’s all on you,” Six hissed venomously, his finger shoving hard into Four’s chest, “That innocent woman’s death is on you.”  
And with that, he shoved past the speechless medium without a single look back.  
~  
Four glanced fruitlessly at his other siblings, seeing similar expressions on each one of their faces: One and Three glared at him before following their other brother, Two appeared to pity him a little but stubbornly joined the other two, and Five was long gone before the arguing even started. 

It was just Four and the ghosts; the shrieking, fuming, vengeful ghosts that hovered around the room in utter denial of their death. They wailed and cursed that life was unfair, that it wasn’t their time yet, to helpthemhelpthemhelpthem.  
But the boy wordlessly walked past them towards the middle-aged lady standing above her crippled body in heartbreak. He lowered down onto his knees, dipping his finger in her blood before drawing a cross upon her forehead.  
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, tears falling down his cheeks, “I’ll make sure they bury you somewhere nice, I promise… I promise…”

`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.

“Get out of here,” Six spat, rolling over to hide his tears, “I hate you.”  
“That’s ok,” the other boy replied, taking a seat upon his own bed, “I would hate me too.”  
“Good, hate yourself. I don’t care.”  
“I know you feel bad, but you were right, it was my fault so don’t beat yourself up over it-”  
“Didn’t you hear me?” The Asian hissed as he sat up and stared daggers, “I said get out!”

Four just watched him for a few moments, as if he were contemplating whether or not to listen. He must have decided on the latter because he crawled under his covers and still didn’t break eye contact as he snuggled against his pillow.  
“She doesn’t blame you,” he muffled out through a yawn. “She said thank you for saving everyone.” And then he turned off his lamp and shifted to face the wall, letting his exhaustion overtake him as the weed began to work its magic.

Six didn’t feel the need to reply; his sibling already knew he was relieved from the lack of sniffling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we covered the first mausoleum trip and the start of Klaus's drug habit... Next will be at the age of 13;)


	3. Bad Habits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben had a habit of degrading his brother to make him feel better about himself; sometimes, he accidentally took things too far.  
> Klaus had a habit of hiding his pain under a mask of blithe, drugs, and alcohol; after a while, the harsh comments became expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Switches between Ben's and Klaus's POV. I changed a few of the tags and chapter two's title.  
> Warning: some foul language and homophobia as well as drug use and underage drinking are within this chapter.

“Why do you do that?” Six asked in irritation, not having to look up from his book to know that Four was putting on makeup.

“Whatever do you mean, mi hermano?” he drawled. His brow was creased in concentration as he applied the mascara, having accidentally stabbed himself in the eye too many times before. The slightest of smirks was on his face as he saw the Asian teen set his book down with a sigh to glare at him in the corner of the mirror. 

Six deadpanned, “You know exactly what I mean.”  
The German hummed in thought, slightly saddened by his brother’s look of disgust but at the same time not entirely surprised either. “Why do I get in touch with my feminine side? Well not everybody can look fabulous off of pure beauty sleep.”  
“But you’re a boy,” the other hissed, “You’re not supposed to wear makeup and skirts. Stop trying to deny what you are.”  
“I’m not denying anything, I’ve accepted that this is who I am. I’m happy with who I am.” He smiled at himself in the mirror, nobody aware of the brokenness behind his olive-green eyes.  
Happiness was a mask, a mask he has gotten quite accustomed to wearing. 

Six just scowled. “How can you be? Don’t you know what they say about you?”  
“Why should I care about what other people think?”  
“B-Because-!" He baffled, his face flushing as he became completely caught off guard by the question. Why wouldn't he care? Doesn't he want people to like him? Doesn't he want to have people's respect? Doesn't he want to defend his dignity?  
Four paused in mid fard, cocking a brow in the mirror expectantly. "...Because?" He asked.

"R-Rumors! They'll be made about you! And-"  
"Rumors are made regardless-"  
"If you knew what people say about you… then- then you would care! There's a reason nobody likes you!" Six shouted, red in the face at Four's condescending tone.  
He made The Horror (of all people) feel childish and immature; was he shallow and dumb for caring what people think about him? He wasn't the most confident of individuals, that even he couldn't deny, but did that make him any less than Four? Did that make him weaker? Definitely not… right? 

Four slowly put down the mascara brush, eyes downcast and tone cold as he asked, "And what rumors, exactly, should I care about?"  
Immediately, the smaller boy regained his composure, feeling slightly smug at his sibling’s inquiry. ‘Perhaps he did’, the Asian thought, ‘care a little more than he let on. He was trying to make me seem weak again’. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he studied Four’s face.

He carefully watched for a reaction as he said, “Dad says you're a disappointment, I think you’re dead weight, and everybody else… well… they call you a fag. You know what that means, right? Everyone thinks you are into guys; doesn’t that bother you? Why would any of us want to be around you? Why would I want to share a room with you? You know how… awkward that is?”

The German just blinked indifferently. His eyes appeared duller, Six noticed, but other than that his face was expressionless. After a few moments, he lifted his gaze back to the mirror and continued to apply his makeup.  
“And what if they’re true?” he finally replied monotonously, “You gonna disown me a second time?” He finished with the mascara and batted his eyelashes a few times before turning to face Six head-on.  
“You see, Sixy, the difference between you and me is that I don’t care. You either accept me or you don’t; end of story. I don’t bend over backwards for people nor do I hide my true self from the world because if they can accept all of me, not just the part of me they want to see, then I’ll know that their affection and concern is genuine.”

Six scowled immediately, feeling his blood boil at the comment.  
Was Four implying that he was fake? That his siblings didn’t actually care for him? That they liked him because he never stood up for himself or disagreed with them? How dare he make such a bold claim; how dare he assume that he knew Six enough to judge him.

“Y-Yeah well... your true self sucks! All parts of you are bad u-unlike some of us!” he stammered angrily, only slightly humiliated that he couldn’t come up with a better comeback.

Once again, Four has rendered his mind useless and exposed truths Six would rather not accept… He’ll get him back for this; he will before the week is over. He needs to be taught a lesson; he needs to be taught that Six wasn’t stupid and was a force to be reckoned with. 

It only made Six more furious and driven with vengeful thoughts when he caught Four smile at him sympathetically before turning back to the mirror. 

~

He didn’t mean it. It was by accident. It was only meant to be a little push. He barely touched him. It was just meant to be a tiny shove, enough to make Four stumble in their mother’s heels and see how stupid it was to wear them; enough to make him realize that he shouldn’t be walking in them because he wasn’t a girl. Nothing more.

He didn’t mean for him to go tumbling down the stairs.  
He didn’t mean for him to hit his head and fall unconscious.  
He didn’t mean for him to have to get his jaw wired shut for three weeks.

It was all an accident. A simple mistake. He didn’t mean it.  
Just like he didn’t mean to send him to “special training”. Just like he didn’t mean to scare him in the kitchen. Just like he didn’t mean to get him into smoking weed just to keep his tears from falling in the dead of night.  
He didn’t mean it. It was all an accident. Just a small mistake, a tiny miscalculation.  
Nobody needed to know what really happened; he didn’t mean it. He wasn’t trying to hurt him.  
It was all an accident. Just an accident. He didn’t mean it; it wasn’t all his fault… right?

`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.

Klaus leaned against the windowsill, dark bags under his eyes and a cigarette between his fingers.  
He couldn’t do it, not another one: no more summoning sessions… he just can’t do it. He was exhausted, he was fatigued, he was sad and frustrated. He has tried summoning Five all week and he just hasn’t shown up so surely he isn’t dead, right? Why can’t their father just believe that? Why does he have to keep pushing him until he blackouts from overexertion?

He sighed and took a drag.

He would kill for something stronger, something to numb his pain… But he really did want to summon his brother; he really did want to make his family proud. So he’ll stay relatively sober- for now. He’ll stick to cigarettes- for now. He’s pretty confident that his brother isn’t dead (the stubborn pain in the ass wouldn’t let the reaper take him that easily) but until his father gives up, he’ll give his best effort.

“If you’re gonna smoke, at least leave the house. I don’t wanna smell it.”  
Four’s expression immediately dampened at the sound of his other brother’s voice. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with him; he wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone. But Six especially: all he did was lecture and scold and make him feel bad about himself. He loved his brother, just like he loved all of his siblings, but Ben has always been… a little short with him.  
“I opened the window this time, at least,” Klaus muttered, a small smile on his lips as he remembered how mad his brother had been when he turned their room into a hot box a couple of weeks ago.  
“I don’t care. It lingers. Put it out,” Six responded curtly; the medium could hear him enter further into the room.  
Klaus rolled his eyes before facing him with a dramatic pout. “But Daddy,” he whined sarcastically, “It’s my last oneee.”  
Ben glared at him, crossing his arms. “Put it out or I’ll actually go get Dad.”  
The Seance just snorted, taking another drag and blowing a smoke-ring right into his brother’s face. “Go ahead,” he paused, smirking as Ben’s nose wrinkled in disgust, “Be my guest.” Then he waved his hand dismissively and leaned back out the window. 

Ben joined him at the window, a devious twinkle in his eye, “You know… the Horror tends to respond to certain smells, smells it doesn’t like…”  
“Oh really?” Klaus replied with a grin, not having to be a mind reader to know that his brother was trying to intimidate him. And it probably would have worked with a normal person or any of their other siblings; too bad Four was already familiar with the secrets of a gruesome death. And, well, he knew better than anyone that Ben would never have the guts to unleash his power willingly.

“I love a good tentacle hentai. Tell me: are they really slimy and slippery or is-”  
“Shut up, that’s frickin disgusting. You’re fucked up in the head, you know that right?” Six sneered, “And I don’t think the nicotine had anything to do with that.”  
Klaus laughed, imagining that he was soaring through the clouds rather than trapped in this suffocating household. “Yeah, that’s so true. Nicotine isn’t nearly strong enough.”

“It’s strong enough to poison your body.”  
“That’s just what Dad wants us to think; I find it as a natural alternative for relaxers. You know,” a sly expression crossed his face, “since some of us aren’t strong enough to break into the medicine cabinet.”  
Six’s face flushed at the reminder. “I don’t believe you,” he grumbled defensively.  
Klaus looked at him in amusement, plucking the cigarette from his lips with a shrug.  
“Then don’t. I guess you’ll never know.”

The Asian teen was silent for a few moments, looking at the cigarette in contemplation. Catching on to his brother’s curiosity, the medium held it out to him as a peace offering.  
“Go ahead,” the German encouraged, “One puff won’t get you addicted.”

Hesitantly, Ben took it from Klaus’s hand. Should he try it? Wasn’t it against the rules? Wouldn’t Father be disappointed in him? That’s when he saw it: that smug glint in his sibling’s eyes as he waited for him to take a drag. He was trying to corrupt him, huh? This was all part of a ruse to make him just as bad as Klaus was… He won’t fall for it. 

Six smiled as he dropped the cigarette out the window. “Oops.”

“Damn,” Four mumbled, watching it hit the cement with a frown.

Ben’s smile slipped into a complacent smirk. “You should know better than to trust me by now. We may be siblings on paper, but we’re not friends. And I refuse to stoop as low as you.”

Klaus just yawned, fiddling with something in his pocket. “And you should know better than to believe me by now.” He pulled out a box of cigarettes from his pants, shuffling one into his hand. The smirk immediately dropped from his brother’s face. He felt Ben glower as he pulled out a match and lit the smoke. “But don’t worry, brother dear, I forgive you for being a selfish prick.”

“You-!” he hissed, lunging towards him to grab the cigarette but Klaus was quick to move his hand out of the way. Instead, Ben’s hand went slapping into the match, causing it to fly right into a pile of Four’s comics on their desk.  
Klaus stiffened as smoke began to billow from the stack. “Scheisse,” he breathed as he scrambled towards the igniting papers, glancing around frantically for something to put them out with.  
Ben just stared, frozen in place. Did he just cause a fire? Would he burn down the house? He was going to be in so much troub- He stopped mid-thought as his legs began moving on their own. If he left now, there would be no proof he caused it; he could go get someone and say Four did it. After all, it was his match.

“Mom!”  
Grace’s heels clacked down the hall as he shouted her name. She rounded the corner and smiled, “Yes, Ben?”  
“Klaus did it- And fire! I-In our room and- you need to come right now!” Six lied, tugging her hand towards the ajar bedroom.  
The robot tsked as she let go of his hand and pushed open the door. Ben peeked around the corner, expecting to see Klaus crying over his comics or staring in horror at the fact Ben just blamed the incident on him; instead, he saw Klaus jumping on his bed. The boy was smiling and giggling as he watched the comics burn; the heck is he on? Weren’t those his prized possessions?  
Their mother extinguished the fire with ease, putting her hands on her hips as she scolded, “Klaus, you’re not supposed to set things on fire.”  
The German lad stopped his jumping and grinned at her sheepishly. “Thank you, Mother,” he chirped.

Ben gritted his teeth. Did he just take the blame for him… again? Why? What could he possibly gain? He just destroyed all of Four’s precious comics for crying out loud! And what did he do? He jumped and laughed! 

Klaus hopped back down onto the floor with a wink.

`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.

It was during dinner that their father confronted them about alcohol going missing from the liquor cabinet. It kind of felt like deja vu when nobody said a word.  
There were only two people that knew how to pick a lock: one of them ran away to time-travel about a month ago and the other was sitting at the table too high to realize that he was a prime suspect.

Ben peered at Klaus with an unforgiving gaze, wanting more than anything to open his mouth and expose the truth.  
But then he saw the baleful look in his sibling’s eyes and hesitated. He swallowed around the lump in his throat when Four raised his finger in a shushing sign with a lackadaisical smile on his face.  
Maybe just this once, he’ll feign ignorance; who knows what the medium may have planned for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Sorry for the wait, I've been working on some other stories. I've been in a mood for dark and twisted Klaus related fanfics so I started a new series for that.  
> Please leave some feedback and ideas for what to include next; it's always appreciated.


	4. Like Brothers Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben wanted a brother but he didn't want Klaus.
> 
> Klaus wanted to die but he wasn't so lucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit shorter, sorry.

“Six, you need to show more restraint next time,” Luther ordered, standing at the head of the circle with his arms crossed. He looked down at the other teens around him like the ‘mighty’ leader he was. Post-mission debriefing was always a drag.

“Um… yeah, okay...”  
Klaus snorted. Immediately all eyes turned to him as he rebelliously sat on the ground with his legs folded beneath him. Luther appeared like an alpha male ready to strike down anyone that dared challenge his authority, Ben stared daggers like his pride was wounded, Diego’s face remained unchanged but amusement danced in his eyes, and Allison just looked confused.

“Care to share what’s so funny, Four?” Their biggest brother demanded, raising an eyebrow.  
“We have names, Luther dear. Daddy’s not here; you can lighten up a bit, don’t you think?”   
“Four is the name on your birth certi-”  
“Oh I don’t care what you call me,” he interrupted while waving a hand dismissively, “But I’m sure Ben would prefer you using his name when scolding him about something you could never understand.”

Everybody seemed a little surprised by that, Luther especially since he wasn’t expecting to be called out.  
Ben was embarrassed; if he had a problem with it, he would have said something (at least, that’s what he tells himself). He didn’t ask for Klaus to defend him, he didn’t want to seem weak and helpless. All he did was cause more problems; their siblings didn’t think that Ben wanted him to speak up, right? 

“Yeah? Well,” Luther defended frantically, “what do you know, anyway? Don’t act like you can read his mind. If it bothered him, he could have said something himself, right B-Ben?”  
‘Kiss-ass,’ Klaus thought with a roll of his eyes.

“Yeah...” Six mumbled, refusing to meet Four’s eyes, “Mind your own business, Klaus.”  
The boy giggled, lazily saluting him, “Noted. Just don’t get too red for me, Benji baby, okay?”  
“Shut up,” he hissed, his fists clenched at his sides, “You’re insufferable-”  
A huff came from Diego. “Can we h-hurry up and f-finish already? I have better t-things to do.”

~

“Stop doing that,” Ben snapped, storming into their room to find Klaus sprawled out on the floor, “I don’t need you trying to stick up for me, I don’t need you constantly taking the blame for things! I’m not a baby and I can take care of myself!”  
Four chuckled dazedly, his pupils blown wide and a red rim to his eyes. “I don’t doubt that you’re a big strong boy now.”

The Asian’s brow furrowed as he exclaimed, “Then why do you do it? Are you trying to mock me? Make me look weak?”  
Klaus just eyed him for a few moments before releasing a hysterical guffaw.  
“What?” Ben demanded, “Tell me!”  
The other shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Is it really too hard to believe that I do things for you because I care about you?”  
“Yes.” Six didn’t even miss a beat. “We’re not friends, remember? Don’t pity me, I don’t need your charity.”

“I don’t pity you.”

“Then why?”

“Because!” Now Klaus appeared annoyed as he sat up with a huff. “You’re my brother, dumbass! Nothing you do or say will ever change that!”   
“We’re not-”  
The taller teen stood, chucking an empty cigarette box at the smaller before pushing past him; pausing at the door, he said, “We don’t have to be friends because we’re already siblings; even if you don’t like to admit it, even if you think I’m a total piece of shit.” He turned the handle. “And honestly? If your head wasn’t so far up Dad’s ass like the rest of our siblings, we could have been good friends. That’s what you’ve always wanted right? To find someone that loves and accepts the real you? Sorry that I’m not what you wanted.” And with that, he left. 

And for the first time, Ben doesn’t feel angry or embarrassed… Just confused and a little less self-aware.

`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.

“One day, the drugs are going to kill you.”

Klaus just yawned, skillfully rolling up the rest of his joint.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Ben hissed, glaring at him, “You’re gonna die eventually with how much you smoke and swallow.”  
“We all die someday, brother dear,” he replied with a shrug.  
Six rolled his eyes, mumbling under his breath, “Some sooner than others.” 

The German placed the blunt to his lips, dampening the end a few times before taking out his lighter (he refused to use matches after the whole burning-comic-books incident).

The other watched disapprovingly as he threw open the window and ignited the end, taking a few puffs.  
“That’s the plan, at least,” Four muttered back.

`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.

“Klaus.”

“Oh hey, you’re back,” Four chuckled, sitting up in his bed to pause his walker, “Thought the mission would take longer, to be honest. Sorry about the pot smell, Dad blocked our window so I’d stop sneaking out-”  
“No, stop talking. You don’t understand- I… They…”

Klaus blinked a few times, noticing that his brother appeared a little paler than usual. “Understand what, Ben? 

Now that he thinks about it, he doesn’t remember hearing steps come up the stairs, that was probably just because of his music though... right? 

Six appeared pained, his expression a mix of frustration and sorrow. “You’re... stupid, really stupid,” he said, although his tone lacked its usual fire and venom when speaking to his least favorite sibling.  
It sounded forced, his eyes looked vacant and kind of… sad?

Was the bedroom door ever opened? He didn’t see it open and when did Ben get the time to close it again without him noticing? 

Ben crossed his arms self-consciously as Four stared at him, as Four stared through him.  
He frowned as he watched Klaus swallow roughly, his hands beginning to tremble as they pulled the headphones off his ears. 

Why weren’t his feet on the ground? Why was he looking at him so pitifully?

“S-Stop, Klaus.”

Why is he saying his name so distantly? Why isn’t he yelling at him? Why isn’t he scolding him? Why is he just standing there? Why does he look so dead-

The boy’s eyes widened; he felt bile bubble in his throat.  
“I-I said s-stop!”

This isn’t happening- This is a joke- This is a dream- It’s his imagination- Ben’s fine- He’s still at the mission with everybody else- This is all a hallucination-

“No- You’re not…” he trailed; he couldn’t even coax the words from his mouth because he refused to accept them.  
“Relax.”  
“No! Y-You’re- You’re…!”

He was going to be sick.

Ben clenched his jaw and slowly lifted up his hoodie, looking down at the swirling black blob that used to be his chest cavity. “Klaus, listen- I... I’m scared and-”

Four leaned over the bed. "NoNoNoNo-"

"Stop, Klaus- Listen to me!"

He puked.

“Get ahold of yourself!” Six shouted, grieving tears clinging to the corners of his eyes, “I need your help, Klaus! Stop being a baby and help me! You wanna be a good brother, right? Tell me I’m not dead, TELL ME I’M NOT DEAD!”

Klaus went impossibly still, tears beginning to roll down his cheeks as he slowly clasped hands over his ears. And then he screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one:  
> Ben: "yOu WaNnA bE a GoOd BrOtHeR, rIgHt?


	5. Talking Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was easy for Ben to remember all the ways he went wrong in life when there was nothing but an empty void around him.
> 
> It was hard for Klaus to forget all the ways his mistakes have come back to haunt him when there was nothing strong enough to keep them away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ben's pretty mean and angsty in this one, ngl. Klaus goes a little crazy. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ I regret nothing.

`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.

Klaus sat in his chair at the dinner table, the atmosphere heavy and tense.  
All the eyes of the five remaining children appeared the same: puffy, glassy, and red.  
Vanya and Allison sniffed a few times, unable to look at the empty chair without breaking the dam again.  
Luther appeared stoic and undeterred, but there was a depressing hunch to his shoulders and an obvious sluggishness to his movements.  
Diego was staring at his food as he clenched the eating utensils with white knuckles, his lashes fluttered every now and then to keep from crying.  
Four’s body was completely rigid despite the slight quivering of his eyelids from not blinking enough, his focus solely on the ghost that was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the table.  
“Don’t you dare scream again,” it muttered with a roll of its eyes.

‘What are you doing?’ he hissed silently as Ben met his gaze and smirked.  
He shrugged; “I’ve always wanted to do this, seemed like an appropriate time. Aren’t you gonna ask them how I died?”  
The medium blanched. 

“Number Two, we will begin a more vigorous personal training regiment tomorrow at five am sharp to make up for your incompetence on yesterday’s mission.”

Klaus’s eyes widened as he glanced from their father to the ghost questioningly. Ben stiffened.  
“It wasn’t his fault, it was just us in that room and there was… nobody to watch the door.”

Four bit his lip, tasting blood on his tongue as he noticed the broken look on his alive brother’s face. His stomach flipped; he suddenly wasn’t hungry.  
“You know… If only we had a look-out…”  
Bile rose in his throat at what Ben was implying but he swallowed that and the guilt down; no one else should have to suffer because of him.

“So we’re throwing blame now?” he furiously demanded, throwing his fork down onto the plate.  
“No speaking at the dinner table-”  
“Bullshit! You spoke first!”  
“Know your place, Number Four! Or will I have to remind you with a personal training of your own?”  
“It wasn’t Diego’s fault! It was mine!” the boy shouted as he stood from his seat, everyone turning to gawk at his outburst, “I should have been there! I should have been look-out! Maybe if I was there- watching the door… He wouldn’t have- Ben would be…”  
A pained whimper ripped from Vanya’s throat before she openly began to sob; Diego stared at him with an unreadable expression; Luther was glaring at him, tears welling in his eyes; Allison buried her face in her hands to hide her crying; And, Ben appeared amused.

Reginald grit his teeth before pushing his chair away from the table to stand. “Very well, Four. Expect a grueling punishment for your disobedience sometime next week. As for your unacceptable condition before the mission,” their father sneered, his tone icy and blunt, “it seems that you have paid the ultimate price for actions: your brother’s life. May this be a reminder next time you choose to defy me and drown yourself in narcotics. The rest of you are excused; Grace, take Four to his room and find the rest of his stash.”  
“Yes sir.”  
“Dismissed.”

Everybody slowly retreats from the table except Klaus, Diego, and their mother.  
“W-W-Why d-d-did you d-do t-t-that?” he stammered out, sounding angry but probably not entirely directed at him.  
Ben rolled his eyes again, saying in a nasally and high pitched voice, “Because you're my brother, dumbass!”  
Klaus’s gaze shifted between the ghost that was clearly mocking him to the teen looking like he was about to punch a wall. “It’s the truth,” he mumbled, “No use denying it.”

“But you could have,” Ben added dryly, resting his chin into the palm of his hand, “Nobody would have known otherwise. It could have been our dirty little secret. What’s that saying again? Two can keep a secret if one of them is dead? Bet you wish I wasn’t the dead one now, huh? You got personal training again… remember the last time you went? That was loads of fun for everybody; I especially liked the part when they knocked you out and tied you to the infirmary’s cot.”  
Klaus tried really hard not to cover his ears and wail for the stinging words to stop, to not scream for his brother to shut the hell up.  
His hands twitched at his side and he stood impossibly straight, observing every last detail of his shoes as a desperate distraction.   
Diego nodded his head, a brief glimpse of gratefulness in his eyes before he turned and followed the others upstairs. 

Grace patted Klaus’s head and gave him a sweet smile, “Come along, dear. Let’s get rid of all those bad things in your room.”  
He took one last glance over his shoulder at the ghost sitting on the table; Ben’s hood was up, shadows darkening his spiteful gaze.

`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.

“How could you leave me like that?”

Klaus blinked at the figure a few times, a look of confusion crossing his face. He hadn’t seen his brother for more than three days; he thought the alcohol and drugs were keeping him away but right now he was so drunk he couldn’t get up off the floor so how exactly did Ben get here?  
“Why… you here…? -Sh hehe my imagine maybe? Hallushinationssss are wild,” he slurred, smiling lazily as he held the bottle up in a ‘cheers’ motion.

“Of course you're drunk off your ass, what was I expecting?” Six said, unamused; he rolled his eyes.  
“Hmm good job, brain. *hic* That sounds -shhh like Benny,” the teen gigged, swirling the bottle of liquor once before taking another swig.   
“I’m not a hallucination, you idiot!” 

Klaus just stared for a couple of moments, his mouth pressed into a thin line. “No no… That can’t be possible! Al- *hic* cohol chases the other ghosts away!” 

“Well I'm not your typical ghost,” Ben mumbled defensively, crossing his arms.  
Four frowned, giving the bottle a look of betrayal before chucking it aside. “Stronger… I need something.. Shhhh- stronger. You’ve *hic* always been a stubborn pain in the ass hehe.”

The ghost scowled but a hint of fear was in his eyes as he asked, “Are you… trying to get rid of me?”  
The boy froze and then just laughed hysterically, tears pricking his eyes and a shaky hand running through his hair. He stood up and staggered to be right in front of Ben’s face, whispering, “It’s kinda funny how the tables have turned, huh?”  
Six swallowed (even though he didn’t need to) and found that words clogged his throat. He wanted to ask what Klaus meant, he wanted to demand that his sibling should stop dismissing him, he wanted to beg for some attention because the void was dark and quiet and boring and he was suffocating helphimhelphimhelphim. Instead, he felt pathetic for being this desperate for human contact. He felt pathetic for being killed by his own powers. He felt pathetic for coming to Klaus; he was supposed to be strong and courageous, the independent brother that could take care of himself and learned to never rely on anyone.  
What was he now? Scared. A scared kid who died way too early. He was terrified of being forgotten and regretful of his entire life’s decisions. He spent three days in the void running through all of the possible things he could be doing right now if he was alive; he considered all the ways his life could have been better if he would have just done some things differently.  
He was terrified of being forgotten but in a way… he already was; nobody ever really knew the real him, did they? He spent his entire life worrying about what other people think and now… where has that got him?

Four leaned in even closer, his breath would have been tickling Ben’s nose if he wasn’t incorporeal. A sly smile was on his face as he muttered, “Tell me Benshy: who’s haunting who now?” 

Six clenched his jaw (it would have hurt if he was alive) before he traveled back to the void. He didn’t wish to fall victim to anymore mockery.

`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.

“Why isn’t it working? WHY ISN’T IT WORKING?” Four rambled to himself, pacing back and forth with hands clawing through his ‘once’ groomed hair. His eyes were bloodshot and crazed, he couldn’t sit still, he was seconds away from having a full-blown panic attack.

“It’s my funeral,” Six argued, looking away from his sibling in self-consciousness, “I have a right to be here.”

“YOU’RE DEAD!” Klaus cried out as he threw his hands in the air, Ben recoiled before Four started yanking roughly on his locks again, “THE DRUGS SHOULD HAVE MADE YOU DISAPPEAR BUT YOU’RE STILL HERE!”

“Well, clearly they don’t work!” He shouted back, more hurt than angry but not daring to show it.

“They are all gone…”   
Six rose an eyebrow as his sibling squatted down and rubbed his eyes haphazardly.  
“Gone gone gone… All gone…” he began to mutter one-sidedly, tears springing to his eyes, “I took them all! I have none left! What will I do? What will THEY do? They are gone! Gone! And he's still here! Useless! Pointless! Waste of air!”   
Ben gulped, becoming unsettled with how delirious Four sounded. Surely it was the drugs, right?  
“I took them ALL! EVERY LAST ONE OF THEM! Gone gone gone gone gone. Empty. Ich bin ein Idiot! Weg, es ist alles weg!”  
The ghost pressed up against the wall, too wary to get any closer but also too stubborn to want to leave. He wanted to talk to someone, he really did; it embarrasses him that Klaus doesn’t want him here yet he’s too desperate for attention to leave. He was too dead to care about dignity… especially when today is his own funeral. 

“Parti, vide, je les ai tous pris!”  
If Klaus wasn’t acting insane at the moment, Six would have admitted that he was slightly impressed by his sibling’s use of international vocabulary (Why did he never know that Klaus could speak three different languages? Well… it was more like why would he have ever noticed...). 

“So disappointing…” Four whispered, Ben having to lean forward slightly to hear him, “I took them all, none of them worked… Disappointing, disappointing, disappointing! But that’s okay because I’m THE disappointment! Fitting, fitting, so very fitting! Don’tcha think, Ben?”  
The ghost practically jumped out of his skin as Klaus turned to him with a watery grin.   
“Well let’s go, mein geisterhafter Bruder! You wanted to see your funeral? Let’s go see your funeral!” The teen stands and his eyes are horribly unfocused as he marches towards the door to his bedroom and skitters down the hall, the ghost following hesitantly about five feet behind him. 

~  
“You couldn’t even stay sober for the funeral?”  
“What the hell is wrong with you!?”  
“Ben deserves a better brother than you!”  
“How could you do this to him?”  
“Have you no shame?”  
“You are my greatest disappointment, Number Four.”  
“Get ahold of yourself, Klaus.”  
“You’re despicable. That was your brother, you selfish asshole! Show some respect!”  
“Why’d you even come?!”

“Because Ben wanted to,” he giggles, his head spinning as he holds onto the statue to keep himself upright, “Thanks for the hand, Benjamin!”

“Don’t you dare mock his name!”  
“Get off his statue!”  
“Klaus, how could you?!”  
“That’s fucked up, even for you!”

“So watcha think Ben? Glad you came?”  
Six stood in front of the statue, staring at the face in disbelief; his siblings’ shouting and scolding falling on deaf ears.  
“I-It…” the ghost began, his face twisting into a pained expression but no tears to accompany it, “It doesn’t even look like me…”

He hears, distantly, Klaus say “Benny doesn’t like his statue” before there was a sickening crack that sounded throughout the courtyard. Ben’s gaze tears away from the statue to see Klaus on the ground dazedly and Luther standing over him with clenched fists.  
The side of Four’s jaw began to swell immediately, the tissue of his cheek bruising and expanding until he could barely see out of his right eye. Ben winced as Klaus touched it lightly; his cheekbone was definitely fractured.  
“Don’t,” One warned darkly through clenched teeth, “you ever dare act like he’s here. He’s gone, he’s never coming back! If only- If only...!”   
Luther closes his eyes and shakes his head, restraining himself from continuing that statement. He leaves, Allison following close behind him.  
Vanya shoots Klaus the dirtiest glare any of them have ever seen before going back inside as well.  
Diego snarls, “Why do you always gotta be a selfish prick?” before crossing his arms and trailing the others.

It was just Four now (minus the ghost looking at him with mixed emotions), sprawled out on the ground with a half-purple face. And he laughs, he laughs hard and painfully and tears flood down his cheeks as he sniffs and hiccups and wipes at his snot. “If only it was me.”  
And Ben feels like he should say something, but he can’t muster any words to leave his mouth; so, instead, he slips back into the void.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to leave a comment, me likey feedback! 
> 
> Also, check out my other chaptered work: Let It Rot (Like the Corpses and Their Flowers). It would be greatly appreciated:)


	6. To Be Human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben is having an identity crisis.  
> Klaus is having a psychotic breakdown.
> 
> They both wish to be free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nine days until Season 2! XD  
> ~this chapter is longer the others and has more insight on what they think of themselves. Still lots of dialogue, but not always necessarily with each other...? It'll make sense when you read it, promise ;)  
> Enjoy!

`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.

“Why do you never summon me?”  
Klaus groaned and rolled over, pulling the blanket over his head.

“I can’t leave the void easily, you know. I have to wait until this light pierces the veil; it beckons me and if I walk into it, I come back here.”

“I don’t remember asking-”  
“Do you know what that light is? Do you know why ghosts are attracted to it?”  
“No, and I don’t care-”  
“It’s you: your powers.”

Klaus froze, swallowing around the lump in his throat.  
“I guess you’re like a beacon to lost souls. That’s why I always find you, always know where you are. You’re the only thing that stands out in the darkness, the only gateway back to the living. Did you know that when you’re distressed, it glows even brighter?”

Ben hovered over the bed, peering down at the lump under the covers. Klaus had gone very still and quiet all of a sudden.  
“The only light in a very cold, silent, and dark world…” he said in faux admiration, “And it avoids us like we’re animals; no wonder the dead hate you.”  
“Don’t say us,” Klaus whispered, “Trust me, you’re not one of them.”  
“I’m dead, aren’t I? I’m a ghost. Your worst nightmare. How am I NOT one of them?”  
“Y-You’re not. They are not like you. T-They are monsters-”  
“They are people! People who died, Klaus!”  
“Not anymore!” he argued, flinging back the covers to meet his brother’s eyes. The ghost stumbled backward, his anger dying on his tongue as he saw that Klaus was crying. “Maybe they were human once but their humanity is now long gone!”

“How could you even say that? Y-You don’t know what it’s like-”  
“Just go away, Ben!” the teen shouted, tears streaming down his face, “You don’t know what it’s like for me either! You don’t even know what you’re talking about!”

Six felt self-conscious again, crossing his arms in an attempt to keep Four from seeing right through his indifferent facade. “It must be so hard,” he snarked, “to be able to see your dead brother. God forbid that you appreciate your gift; it’s not like people would kill for an opportunity to reconnect with their deceased loved ones or anything.”  
Klaus laughed bitterly: much too sharp and with too many teeth showing (the dark bruise on his cheek highlighting the disconcertingness of it). “You act like you’re the only dead person I see, you act like I have a choice to just turn my powers on and off with a flip of a switch!” He shook his head and wiped his tears, “If only the rest of them were as pleasant as you.”  
Ben flinched. “They can’t be that bad…They were living, breathing beings once; just like me.”

The medium’s eyebrows rose as his gaze flickered to the space behind him. Ben looked around himself, confused with what his sibling could possibly be looking at.  
“You don’t see them,” Klaus mused, a glint in his green eyes, “I didn’t know that ghosts couldn’t see each other.”

“There are ghosts here? Now?” Ben spun in circles anxiously, wanting to catch even the briefest of glimpses of the infamous spirits that have supposedly haunted Klaus his entire life. Were they as horrifying as he says? Could he actually have new people to talk to? Were there more people that could relate to his situation? He saw nothing, just a blank room.

“Always. They are always here.” The covers are pulled back over his head, “Always yelling, always screaming, always sobbing… Always stubborn, never listening, and focused solely on themselves. But you never seemed to listen to me while you were alive either, huh?”  
“I-”  
“It’s ok, nobody does. You can go back to your ‘void’ now but don’t worry! If I really do light up the afterlife while I’m distressed, expect to be blinded by my brilliance real soon.”  
Ben shifted uncomfortably, asking, “What… what do you mean?”  
“You’ll see.”

`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.

The car is quiet as Klaus sits in the passenger side, his leg bouncing in time with the rhythm of his rapid heart beat. He stares out the window detachedly, watching as the trees go by as they come closer and closer to their destination. 

His gaze slowly wanders to the mirror, seeing his pale expressionless face looking back at him. His eyes were adorned with dark circles, his lips chapped and swollen from biting. Curls clung to the nervous sweat that dotted his forehead and he was a little twitchy with withdrawals; there was a visible purplish lump on his cheek.  
He looked dead inside, he kind of felt dead inside. Was this how his brother felt? Numb with hopelessness?  
Klaus jumps when movement in the corner of the mirror catches his eye. He glances back to see a hooded figure sitting in the middle seat nonchalantly, one leg folded beneath the other and a book in his hands. Speak of the devil.

Four’s attention switches to Hargreeves dangerously quick. If the man took note of his sudden behavior, he didn’t show it; his eyes remained solely on the road. The teen practically sighed in relief (very VERY temporary relief) and leaned back in his seat, trying to ignore the ghostly presence behind him. 

“Where’s he taking you?” Ben inquired, casually turning his page.  
Klaus didn’t reply, just stared at him in the mirror. The car was too silent, Reginald was too observant; he was still kind of upset with Ben anyways. 

“What so since Dad is here you’re gonna ignore me?” He pauses from his reading to give him a quick glance before returning back to his book, “I bet he doesn’t even know you can see me, huh?”

The boy just sunk further in his seat, his stomach rolling with dread as the car slowly came to a stop.  
“Out,” his father ordered, turning off the car and exiting the vehicle. Four followed close behind. The man didn’t like his pace though and tugged him by the crook of his elbow towards the treeline.   
Klaus took one last glance back at the car; Ben was leaned up against the glass with an apathetic look on his face.

~

“A crypt?” Ben took a glance around the enclosed space, “I knew you went somewhere spooky for your special training but I’m gonna be honest, I never expected this.”  
The boy didn’t reply, just shaking and shivering in the corner; he was curled up in a tight ball and his eyes were darting back and forth, seeing nothing yet everything all at once.

“I mean… it’s not too bad; I feel you may be overreacting. Is it your nyctophobia or your claustrophobia that’s making you panic?” Number Six rolled his eyes with a scoff, “How did you ever survive when the nightlights in our room burnt out? It’s basically the same thing, right?”

Klaus whimpered, his hands clamping down over his ears.   
Ben looked at his brother and frowned. “Hey now, that’s just rude.”  
The teen’s eyes screwed shut.  
“Don’t be like that,” the ghost tut-tutted, “You were the one that called me here. You were right about the whole ‘being blinded by the light’ thing; I got bored after you left me in the car but then when I went back to the void, surprise surprise! I couldn’t see shit. Pretty stereotypical that ghosts are attracted to negative emotions, not gonna lie; I guess paranormal investigators were on to something, huh?”  
Tears began to drip from his chin.

“You know, you could at least pretend to listen to me. Some eye contact or a simple nod of the head would be nice too.”

Klaus began hitting his head against the wall, “Shut up shut up shut up! I can’t help you!”

“Yeah, yeah; you don’t have to remind me, asshole.” He sunk further into his hood, becoming annoyed with his sibling’s dismissive attitude.

“Please… just leave me alone,” the boy croaked, wincing and flinching at phantom forces, legs trying to shuffle his form back even farther into the corner.  
“Hey snap out of it,” Ben grumbled, “I’m not even trying to mess you.”

The smacks against the wall became louder, Klaus’s eyes open once again but rolling around in his skull.   
“Stop that, you idiot! Your cheek is already fucked up! What are you hoping to accomplish?!”

“Let me out,” Klaus mumbled almost incoherently, “I want out. Let me out. I’ll be good, l swear. Please. Let me out.”  
The chants sounded familiar, Ben realized; maybe from six or seven years ago? The flashbacks of Four screaming bloody-murder in the kitchen was the first thing to resurface to his mind, then the look of horror on his face. Six shuddered; Klaus was tormented by the ghosts in the kitchen and now, Ben was one of them. He was just another face terrifying his brot- No, not his brother. His sibling. Another face in a crowd of the undead that terrified his sibling. Except this time, it was just him in the room, right? Was Klaus really just scared of him? Is he really a monster?

“Let me out. Dad, please let me out. Please!” His hands were scrubbing his arms over and over, as if he was trying to shed himself of a second skin. (The ghost didn’t know it was because he was trying to warm away the chill of ghastly limbs reaching through him). 

“Stop doing that to y-your arms,” Ben snapped, coming closer to the shaking boy, “You’re going to tear through your jacket!”

“Let me out!” Klaus shouted hoarsely, his voice cracking as it reached a new pitch of desperation, “Dad! Let me out!”

Ben scowled; why does he always ignore him? “He can’t hear you! Why would he even be listening?! Don’t waste your breath, nitwit! Hurting yourself for his attention isn’t going to make him come back!”

“Let me out… Let me out! LET ME OUT!”   
“Klaus, are you even hearing yourself? You sound pathetic!”  
“LET ME OUT!”  
“He’s not coming!”  
“LET ME OUT!”  
“No one even knows you’re here!”  
“LET ME OUT!”  
“If you weren’t so infuriating, maybe people would care enough to look for you!”

Blood trickled from Klaus’s ear as he cried, eyes rolling back into his head and nails clawing his face.

Anger consumed Ben, his hands clenching at his sides.“SHUT UP, KLAUS, AND JUST LISTEN TO ME!” Without thinking, he lunged forward.

His numb, lifeless limbs passed through the boy with ease but suddenly there was a bright flash of cerulean light that blinded Ben before a chorus of screams and moans and sobs shot through his ears and drowned out, as he soon realized, his own cry of astonishment. He stumbled back at the sea of people pushing and shoving him from all angles; where did they come from? What did they want? And then there, at the epicenter, sat the screaming form of Klaus: the ever luminescent beacon that seemed to call to Ben like a siren. And he couldn’t hear his sibling scream and he couldn’t hear his own scream of overwhelmingness as he allowed himself to be shoved up against a wall, away from his ghastly brethren. He clasps his hands over his ears and shouts, “Make it stop! Stop yelling! You’re too loud!” But the ghosts don’t listen, they don’t even flinch. He couldn’t hear his own thoughts, all he could hear was bloody banshee cries of his sibling’s name. Klaus, Klaus, Klaus… everything is always about Klaus! How had it come to this? Why did he want to be in here anyway? It’s all Klaus’s fault, everything is Klaus’s fault! If only he stayed in the void and-

The void! He could just go back to the void!

The void has always been a presence in the back of his mind, something that dangled like a loose string ready to pull. He was never really sure how he got there, he just kind of mentally reached for the thread that tied him back to the dark place and he’d tug and when he opens his eyes, he’s surrounded by a silent darkness. But now, he does not feel the looming presence; nothing happens as he reaches out to tug where the string once was. The tie has been severed, he realizes, and the thought (if he was alive) would have made him sick to his stomach. He can’t go back to void, the tether is gone; but in its place, he feels a new tie. This thread feels shorter, not as slack and dangly, and oddly familiar. And his eyes widen in horror as it finally clicks into place what just occurred; the string was cut with the void because he was now tethered to Klaus. The epiphany makes Ben gnash his teeth as he tugs on the new tie with malevolent intent; he’s stuck here now, he’s stuck here with him. Him, it’s always him. And he can’t think straight and he can’t reason through how, exactly, this could have happened because the dead have hijacked his ears and sent his brain into overdrive. This is all Klaus’s fault; he made the ghosts visible, he made them angry and wanton. He made Ben suffer with him and he can’t take it, he wants out, let him out, let him-

A strange tingling sensation graces his body as he peeks an eye open: he is phased halfway through a wall. Six gasps and scrambles backward, landing outside the mausoleum walls with a non-existent thump. He blinks once, twice, absorbing the sudden hush (with exception of the occasional groan from the wandering spirits) that assailed his eardrums. Upon the ground, he inhaled deeply (despite not needing to) to calm the daze in his head. He relished in the peace; the graveyard filled him with a grim sense of understanding. He understood what Klaus meant now. He was right; Ben is not one of them. Ben is not a mindless, rage-fueled phantom that makes up the stuff of nightmares. They weren’t normal, they didn’t seem human; would he call them monsters?  
His gaze trails to a ghost hovering above a broken grave. Its movements were lagged and sullen, the mumbles escaping its lips were slurred to the point of incoherence. He was missing half of his skull and one of his eyes hung uselessly by the optic nerve, swaying softly in the breeze with each shuffled movement. He reminded Ben of the zombies in the thriller graphic novels Klaus used to read; well, until the fact of incorporeality comes into play. The spirit looked vacant and lost like it had no purpose of being there and forgot its reason for staying. How are ghosts supposed to move on to the afterlife? Why do some follow people around (like Four has said many times before) and others are on their own? What exactly is the void? Why did he never see any ghosts there?

Much about his existence afterlife hasn’t made sense; he has never taken the time to stop and wonder. He had a lot of unanswered questions and most of them derived from the fact that he hasn’t really felt like he was dead. It was more like he was having an identity crisis and was locked in a dull, lifeless room until he worked it out; a dull, lifeless room with Klaus. But Klaus could barely figure out himself; and, quite obviously, he was more running away from his problems with a mask of drugs rather than facing them head-on in hopes of a solution. His solution was to eschew his powers, responsibilities, and daddy issues. He was in no state to be of use to his newly deceased sibling, he was of no use even when Ben was still alive. Life is full of disappointments but being stuck with Klaus made his ‘after-life’ not much different.

The ghost cranes its neck to look at the mausoleum curiously before passing through a couple of graves to stand beneath a tree.  
No, they weren’t monsters, Ben decides, there were just sad souls who have lost their way. They may have been human once, but now they were just beings; a pointless eternity of isolation and desolation can do that to a person. Whatever the ghosts are, whatever it is that they want, can not be reasoned with or reversed; their sanity trickled away with their desire to be alone. 

Would Ben one day become just like all the other ghosts in that crypt? Would Klaus scream and claw at himself in terror with just the sight of him?   
Maybe he should have never left the void. Maybe he should be scared that he can’t go back.

~

“KLAUS KLAUS KLAUS.”

They never stop; it’s an endless cycle. Scream, shout, sob, repeat. And in return, he retaliates with: scream, plead, cry, bleed, repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Screaming screaming screaming. Bleeding bleeding bleeding. There isn’t a moment of rest or quiet and he can’t seem to form a logical thought. Worms made it their home beneath his skin, magpies nested upon his brain; he wants to claw them out. His nails are blunt.  
He thinks he sees Ben for a brief moment in the sea before he is washed away with the tide of the dead, becoming just another mindless face in the crowd. Klaus wasn’t even sure if he was actually there or if his brother’s face was just a hallucination; sometimes he got those. Maybe he just wanted to see Ben so his brain tricked him into seeing him.  
The magpies are fluttering.

Over the chants and cries, a familiar scream he knows better than his own rips through the fog. The scream makes his frigid blood run colder, it makes his eyes squeeze shut in heartache; it was Six’s scream. He had only heard Ben scream when he was in pain; he only ever screamed when he was unleashing the Horrors. But now he was screaming, and he was screaming at Klaus and Klaus caused him pain. He hurt his brother, he hurt him and it’s unforgivable.   
The worms are wiggling.

“Make it stop!” he thinks he hears Ben shout, “Stop yelling! You’re too loud!” And bitter tears began to roll down the boy’s cheeks because if that didn't sum up the story of his life, he wasn’t sure what would.  
Ben was stuck suffering just like him and he hasn’t been very fair, now has he? He’s been a real jerk to his brother: constantly ignoring him or trying and ultimately failing to drown him out with drugs and alcohol. He has been cryptic with information regarding the dead and made Ben feel unwanted. He should be a better brother. Yes, he was awful; he was a rotten human being that didn’t deserve the life he was being given. Ben deserved life, Ben deserved the world just like the rest of his siblings; he should be the one to be given such a precious gift and Klaus should be the one that’s a silent witness to life’s little white lies.  
The magpies are cawing.

He feels it, deep coiling from within; like a rubber band is being pulled taut and the slightest of pressure will cause it to snap. The room is cold and his teeth are chattering, the wails drum against his ears like the beat of a tribal ritual and his head thumps against the wall in a similar tune.   
It should have been him, it should have been him. They were all right; he was selfish, he was cruel. Why does he even exist? Why did the sibling with literally zero life goals and masochistic ambitions have to be the one to survive while the intelligent and self-sufficient sibling with a bright future ahead of him have to perish so gruesomely? Life wasn’t fair; death wasn’t fair.   
The worms are crawling.

He’s sorry, he’s sorry, he’s so very sorry. He’s sorry to Dad for being a disappointment. He’s sorry to Pogo for being a brat. He’s sorry to Grace for being a troublemaker. He’s sorry to Luther for being a liability. He’s sorry to Diego for being an embarrassment. He’s sorry to Allison for being an annoyance. He’s sorry to Vanya for being a loquacious extrovert. He’s sorry to Five for being a useless drug addict. And he’s sorry to Ben for being a horrible brother. He’s sorry, he’s sorry! Somebody forgive him! Somebody forgive him and LET HIM OUT!  
The magpies are screeching.

The rubber band in his stomach is being pulled tighter. The amount of pressure he’s suddenly feeling is making it hard to breathe; a balloon expands in his lungs, slowly getting bigger and bigger… Who knows when it will pop. He’s trembling and his throat is raw; the ghosts seem closer, more life-like. He hates being cornered but he likes it at the same time; nothing can sneak up on him except the creeping panic caused by his claustrophobia. The walls are cool to the touch against his back yet dig into his skin; he tries to melt into the stone but it’s to no avail.   
The worms are thrashing.

He’s on a brink; he’s not sure of what. Life? Sanity? He’ll soon find out. Closer and closer to the edge he goes; it’s like the ghosts are pushing towards the end of a cliff. He can hear a thrumming in his ears that accents the banshee calls. He’s gasping for breath as the balloon grows. Pop, pop, pop; make it pop! Will confetti fly? Will he die? Oh he wants to know! Which end of the rubber band will be released: will he be on the receiving or the inflicting? Thump, thump, thump, his head goes. Can he be let out now?

Get the fucking birds out of his head! Thump against the wall until they fly away!  
Get the fucking worms out of their fleshy burrows! Scratch his arms until they scatter!  
Get them out! Let him out!   
Make it stop. Make it stop. MAKE IT STOP.

It snaps; he’s been pushed off but for a moment, he’s floating. He blinks as the coiling pressure within his stomach vanishes. But then he’s falling and the balloon pops and the birds are trying to claw their way free from his skull and the worms are squirming even deeper than his bones and he releases a guttural shriek as his hands fling off his ears from the force of the energy as a blinding blue light erupts forth from his palms and chest and paints his irises and the ghosts cerulean. He doesn’t understand the ringing in his ears and he doesn’t understand the dripping of warm liquid from his hair as he slumps against the wall, completely helpless as the ghosts close back in around him. And for a second, he flinches as he waits for the chill of apparitions passing through him but, instead, he feels steady pressure on his skin. The boy’s eyes widen as he whips his attention to the hand suddenly holding his leg. He stares: flabbergasted, confused. But it didn’t take long for the terror to fill him as more and more hands began to yank and tear at his flesh like he was a divine buffet table. And Klaus is screaming again, he’s screaming so loud that he can taste metal on his tongue from his abused throat because they can touch him… THEY CAN TOUCH HIM. 

“HELP ME! SOMEBODY HELP ME!” He cries in reignited fervor, raw desperation and fear cracking his voice to an impossibly high pitch, “Dad! Mom! Pogo! Please!”

They are biting him. They are clawing him. They are kicking him. They are grabbing him.

“Diego! Luther! Allison!”

A tall burly man picks him up by the throat and he hopelessly thrashes to try and escape the tightening grasp.

“Va- nya-... F- iv- e…” he anguished through his strained windpipe, staring into the malicious and hateful glow of the spirit’s eyes.

“Pl- ea- se…”

The ghost snarls at the tears wetting his hand before hurling Klaus’s weak and battered body across the room. And as the teen flies through the air, he couldn’t stop the next name from being ripped from his lips: “BEN!”  
He hits the stone with a nauseating crunch. His body falls limply to the floor.   
And at 7:41 pm, Klaus Hargreeves was nothing more than another lamented corpse resting within the graveyard.

~

There’s a sharp tug on the string, a tug that fills Ben’s mind with a sense of danger. He buries his head into his knees; it wasn’t his problem. What could he do anyways? He was nothing more than a damned soul trapped amongst the living.

He can not cry, ghosts can’t summon tears. But he does release dry sobs into the suddenly silent air, unaware of the fact that the recently emplaced tether to an individual on the other side of the wall snapped.

`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.

The car is quiet as Klaus sits in the passenger side, his body frail and shaken. He stares out the window detachedly, watching as the trees go by as they come closer and closer to their destination. 

His gaze slowly wanders to the mirror, seeing his pale expressionless face looking back at him. His eyes were adorned with dark circles, his lips chapped and swollen from biting. Curls clung to the grime and sweat that dotted his forehead and he was a little twitchy with withdrawals; there was a wicked scar hidden beneath his hair.  
He looked dead inside; he was, for a while, dead inside.

Klaus doesn’t react when movement in the corner of the mirror catches his eye.   
A hooded figure sits in the middle seat broodingly, one leg folded beneath the other and a book in his hands.  
“I hate you,” Six says.  
Four doesn’t hear him through all the caked blood in his ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dark themes ensue... I had planned more for this chap but it's already so long so I just moved the section to the next chapter:)


	7. Origami Cranes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A forlorn teen tries his best to be useful to a spirit.  
> A lonely ghost talks a half-naked kid out of suicide.
> 
> Epiphanies can come at any time and it is never too late to change. Because at the end of the day, people are like paper: no matter what we say or how we appear, we can all be shaped into something beautiful with a little time and effort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while huh? I finished season two the day it came out and... well I don't wanna spoil anything but I'm pretty devasted about a few things. I'll probably voice my problems in a post-season-two drabble; anyone who loves Ben and Klaus and has watched season two probably knows what's bound to be brought up.

`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.

“Good morning Benji, how are you?”  
The ghost did a double take from his position on the untouched bed; he hasn’t been spoken to in days and out of all the possible conversation starters that ran through his head, this was definitely NOT the one he was expecting.  
“Huh?”  
“How’s the afterlife treating you? Peaceful, I can assume: a ghostless existence and a world away from all the living idiots,” the boy rambled as he busied his hands with folding of paper (origami seemed like a low budget and time-consuming hobby… if only he could actually pay attention long enough to remember which fold he has done already). His eyes darted from the paper to his slender fingers but never once landed on Ben; he was extra jumpy today and found himself on edge around ALL ghosts since the unspoken incident at the mausoleum (the spite and hatred in his brother’s gaze was not a welcoming sight anyways).

“I…” Six’s brow furrowed as he stared bitterly at his closed book, “It’s actually been quite unsettling lately.”

Four paused mid-fold, rolling his shoulders fraught before continuing where he left off, “Oh?”  
Ben glowered, sensing that his brother didn’t actually expect a conversation-invoking answer. But he’d be damned if he thought he was going to go back to an interaction-less existence. “Things have been… loud.”

“Loud?” An almost amused look filled Klaus’s eyes, “I guess our siblings can be quite obnoxious but why not just travel back to your little monochrome wonderland?” He didn’t mean for the envy to slip into his tone as he thought about how at least Ben could leave whenever he wanted to, it just kind of happened. Ben didn’t notice.  
A look of confusion crossed the ghost’s face. “My what?”  
“You know, the colorless world full of trees and bike paths.” He waved his hand through the air for emphasis.  
“Trees and bike paths- what the hell are you on?” Ben baffled, beginning to feel like this was some ruse to mock him.  
“Nothing, sadly. Mother dear raided my stash and Father has been locking our door with a special key at night.”  
Ben rolled his eyes. “Right, I forgot you’re just naturally an imbecile. I, for one, am not so I still have no idea what you are talking about.”  
Klaus sighed and scrunched his nose slightly. “The void or whatever you referred to it as. Just saying, you could totally think of a better name or at least attach a tiny disclaimer that informs people it is by no means dark and empty nor will you be able to avoid annoying little preteens on bikes with a superiority complex.” 

The ghost just stared incredulously.  
“You should also include that she exercises blatant favoritism-”

“I don’t know how much brain damage you sustained from smacking your head against the wall repeatedly, but I can assure you that there would be absolutely no point in including such a ridiculous disclaimer. The void is exactly how it sounds: dark, empty, silent.” His arms crossed as he felt a familiar itch beneath his skin; oh how he longed to be able to pull that string again just so he could be away from his sibling’s dumbass company for merely a second.

The boy halted his amateur paper-folding with a sudden tightness to his posture. “How do you…” he inquired, an odd tone lacing his voice, “How do you get there?”  
Ben felt defensive at the question, it touching the raw nerve that the events at the crypt left behind. Now, he really wished he could fade from existence for a moment to collect himself.  
“Does it matter?” He then added quietly, “It’s not like I can go back anyways…”

“Yes. Just answer the question,” Klaus said, still taut and unusually serious, “How did you get there when you died?”  
“I don’t know!” Ben snapped, “I was just dying on the floor one moment and when I opened my eyes the next, I was surrounded by an absence of light and sound. Then I saw a glow in the distance and when I walked towards it, I was back in here with you.” 

“T-That’s it?” The messy work of an origami crane fell limply from his hand.

“Yes: no ‘monochrome wonderland’, no ‘bike trails and annoying preteens’,” the ghost snarked, “Whatever drugs you took that would inspire such a notion is clearly killing your brain cells and you have no idea what you’re talking about, as usual.”

It didn’t make sense for the medium; something wasn’t adding up. Why is it that he went to an afterlife completely different from his brother? Why did he talk to what he could only assume was ‘God’ while Ben was in utter isolation? Why did Klaus never become a ghost?  
His head was spinning.  
“Those with grudges or ‘unfinished business’ with the living become the wandering spirits that haunt me,” Klaus mumbled to himself, organizing his own train of thought as Ben just so happened to be listening intently, “There are some who follow me around in a desperate hope that I would seek retribution on those that made them suffer.” 

Ben shifted awkwardly, placing a hand to his chin and leaning forward on his elbow. His gaze was glued to the back of the medium’s head, unsure of what was running through that normally nonlucid brain of his. 

“Some can fade in and out of existence but they are normally less bitter or angry than their ghastly brethren; they aren’t as committed to their cause for coming to the plane of the living. And sometimes, ghosts are stuck to people, stuck with the living, because they’ve imprinted themselves upon them; like a tie is created, connecting them,” the gears in Klaus’s head were turning now, unable to stop the flow of words from his mouth. It was clicking for him but there was still one piece of the puzzle yet to be solved; and although he had a pretty good idea of what the answer was, he still wanted to hear it from his brother’s mouth (Well, not really if it was the reply he was assuming…). “A dead child may tie themselves to their grieving mother because they don’t know enough about death and an afterlife to do otherwise. A suicide victim may be tied to their lover because they are regretful of their decision to take their own life and leave them. A homicide victim may be tied to their killer because they desire justice and karma to be dealt.”

“Why are you-”

“Ghosts can’t move on to the afterlife if they are not accepting of their death: what that afterlife consists of depends on their mode of department and sins committed, I suppose. (I guess religion has to be right about one thing, right?). I’ve always been agnostic, but it seems, now, that there are two different places you can go when you die.” His finger played with the stack of small papers, really taking his time to choose his next words so his eventual question can be laid down as delicately as possible. 

“Alright, so w-what?” Ben questioned, his tone prickly and slightly apprehensive with where Four was going with this, “There’s another place besides the void: that’s what you’re getting at? Well, it doesn’t matter! I can’t get back to the void anyways! I’m trapped here.”

The medium’s assumption became glaringly correct in the back of his mind, screaming at him to stop because it was just going to hurt him worse if he heard the words uttered to his face. Ben saw him as a beacon in the void, he always appeared at the worst of times and was attracted to his distress, he now can’t leave the living and never really strays too far from his side… it all made sense.

“Ben… you’re trapped here because you’ve… been tied to me,” he says slowly and with much exhaustion dripping from his tone; this whole conversation has left a sour taste in his mouth, he wanted it over, he wished that it never had to exist. If only they were a loving family, if only they were normal children, if only he and his brother were friends.

“Yeah, I know that,” Six deadpanned as he hissed, “It’s not fair to tie me to you; you were a thorn in my side enough in life, why did you have to tie me to you in death-”  
“The dead are the ones to make ties; they are the ones affected.” (Well other than himself since he’s stuck with both the living and their entourage of spirits).  
The ghost flushed in anger and embarrassment at the accusation, marching forward to be right behind his sibling’s form. “T-That’s ridiculous! Why would I ever want to be tethered to you?” 

“You haven’t passed on because you’re not ready to accept that your life is over; I don’t blame you: sixteen is way too young and fate was cruel to snuff out such a bright flame brimming with potential.” His knuckles turned white on the hand gripping the side of the table, feeling a great sadness wash over him. ‘This is why I passed to the afterlife immediately: I don’t want to be a part of the world, there is nothing here left for me.’

Ben frowned, his anger dimming slightly; he felt dread pool within his stomach. “You’re telling me this because you want me to pass on already? So I’ll finally disappear for good? So you can be all alone without your stupid brother haunting yo-”  
“I want you to be happy,” Klaus whispered, turning around to finally face him as tears welled in his eyes, “And you’re obviously not because I’m… because you tied…”

His frustration and wounded pride returned, seething, “You’re not listening to me: why would I ever tie myself to you-”  
“Do you blame me for your death?”  
Six choked on his words, his expression going blank. “W-What?”  
“Ben, do you blame me for your death?”

The ghost wanted to deny it, he wanted to say that there was no way he’d be tethered to Klaus over something his own powers caused. But deep down... the anger, the resentment, the spite: all that he felt towards his most despised sibling, he knew it was because yes, he did blame Klaus for his death. Klaus should have listened to him when he said to stop taking all the drugs. Klaus should have listened to him when he said to stop getting on everyone’s nerves. Klaus should have listened to him when he said, just a mere hour before he died, to stop being a burden to the team. If Klaus would have listened, if Klaus would have been there… (Maybe) Ben wouldn’t have died. Ben could have gone home, took a shower, and went to sleep like after any other mission; Ben could have woken up the next day and put on his uniform and went downstairs for breakfast; Ben could have sat in the library and read a new book after lunch; Ben could have snuck out to the donut shop with Allison or help Mom do the dishes with Diego or train in the courtyard with Luther or have a more-than-awkward conversation with Vanya or even sit down and do his studies with Pogo; Ben could have lived his whole life, he could have done all these things like it was any normal day, like he was any normal living human being. But he was dead and it was unfair and it wasn't his fault.

Six avoided Four’s eyes, choosing to ignore the question because he knew his long moment of silence had already given Klaus his answer. “The tether… how can it be broken?”

The boy’s bottom lip wobbled as he bit it, attempting to contain the pain, guilt, and heartbreak he felt. His voice was barely more than a shaky whisper as he said, “By forgiving me…”

The ghost’s jaw clenched as he crossed his arms in an attempt to guard himself (it was a habit now). “Or?” His expression matched his tone: bleak.

Klaus absently picked at his nails; there was no more warmth or sympathy in his eyes, just a cold sorrow. “Or if I die.”

“And when the tether is gone, I’ll actually pass on to the afterlife?”  
Four just nodded; he didn’t have the heart to tell him that he would most likely never be able to leave the void again. Giant eldritch horrors didn’t belong in God’s perfect little world, after all. 

`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.

Ben sat on the floor, crisscrossed as he stared at the wall across from him.  
Tick, tick, tick: the seconds went by at a crawl. In the void, he had no sense of time; he could sit there swallowed up by his own thoughts for minutes or even days and it would all feel the same: just a blurring montage of his darkest secrets and desires crippled by his depressing reality. But here, being surrounded by both ghosts and people 24/7 with only one to talk to, time was slow. The passing of it was long-awaited and glaringly obvious.  
Without Klaus, he didn’t really exist anymore; and even if the medium refused to address him some of the time, it was still a relief deep down every time Four’s gaze would focus on him rather than the wall.  
When Klaus fell asleep (if he could even sleep), Ben would wait for him to awaken. When Klaus went to the bathroom, Ben would hover outside the door. When Klaus wanted absolutely nothing to do with the dead, Ben would stubbornly stick to the outskirts of his vision. When Klaus was drowning in liquor, Ben would reread his book until he sobered up. He would sometimes explore the house, but it was rare; he couldn't stray too far from Four and he feared what would happen to him if he did. Would his soul dissolve into nothingness? Would he hit an invisible wall in a warning to turn back? If he disappeared permanently, would anyone even realize he was gone?  
He stuck to Klaus’s side, not wanting to take any chances.  
Even when Klaus went to take a bath and Ben popped in to sit on the counter; “I’m not sure you’ll want to be in here,” Four had advised with an amused twinkle in his shifty eyes.  
“And why can’t I?” Six had questioned obliviously.  
The teen had snorted and began removing his coat, “Fine, if you want to see your brother naked, that’s on you. I guess the voyeurism kink comes with being a ghost, huh?”  
Ben had blipped out of the bathroom immediately without another word, his face screwed up in humiliation.

But now he was bored. And the time was passing impossibly slow.  
“Klaus,” he groaned, “You’ve been in there forever.”  
There was a sigh from the other side of the door. “I just got in the water like five minutes ago.”  
“It’s been more than five minutes. Besides, you shouldn’t stay in too long; Dad will get mad if he finds out you’re not using the assigned bathroom.”  
There was a shuffling noise, followed by a scoff. “He won’t even notice that I’m gone and why should you care? You’re dead, it’s not like you’ll get in trouble.”  
Now that the ghost thinks about it, he was probably right; none of their siblings paid any attention to Klaus since, well… since the funeral and their father had written him off as a lost cause a long time ago.  
But now there was a new thought that struck him: why was there no swishing of water as Klaus moved in there? Come to think of it… did he ever turn the water on at all?

“What are you doing exactly?” Ben questioned, standing up to move closer towards the closed door (it’s not like it would do much good since he could basically phase through it if he so desired). He heard the creaking of a floorboard and swooshing of glass sliding against each other.  
“Uh,” the delayed answer only furthered his suspicions, “taking a bath, duh. What else would I be doing?”  
“It doesn’t sound like you are. You need water to bathe.”  
“Well, maybe I haven’t filled up the tub yet.”  
“I thought you said you just got in the water five minutes ago.”

There was a muffled curse from inside the bathroom, followed by the scratching of fabric. “Oh,” Klaus’s voice sounded a little strained and breathy, “Ever heard of dry cleaning?”  
“Yeah: for clothes, not people.”  
“Well,” there was a plopping noise, Four’s voice sounding a little quieter and more distant, “people should expand their horizons.”  
Six was becoming annoyed. “What the hell is going on in there?” There was no reply, the bathroom had gone eerily silent. “Klaus? Klaus! I know you’re in there, you can’t ignore me.”  
Oh but the ghost knew damn well that he could.  
Ben was frustrated and surprisingly curious, leaning forward to press his ear to the door. And when he phased through (accidentally), he mumbled “Fuck it” before passing to the other side completely. “Don’t scream, I know you’re not- wait… Klaus?” The bathroom was completely empty, the ghost spun around in confusion at the sight of the dry bathtub and a discarded academy uniform on the floor. A breeze ruffled the towel hanging on the rack, drawing his attention to the opened window. Surely Klaus wouldn’t have… but then again, this was Klaus: the infuriating, irresponsible, and reckless wild child. The wild child that just managed to ditch a ghost that’s literally tied to him.  
He gawked; not only did his sibling just sneak out of the house through a bathroom window on the second story, he was also only in his underwear.

Ben leaned out the window and looked down at the drop, not seeing anyone in the alley below him. Second-hand embarrassment came in waves at the thought of Four running through the streets practically naked; what is even thinking?  
As he considered jumping out the window to search for the medium before Ben could figure out what happens when his tether is stretched too thinly, he felt a mental tug upwards.

An eyebrow raised as he examined the side of the building, eyes following a pipe that traveled all the way to the roof. Did Klaus shimmy up that? What was he: part monkey?  
~  
“You know, after sharing a room with you for more than a decade, I thought I’d seen it all.”

Klaus grinned, walking along the edge of the roof with lackadaisical precision.  
“I like to keep people guessing; predictability is boring for everyone.”

“What are you even doing up here?” The ghost found himself looking away, unable to have a respectable conversation while his sibling pranced around in his underwear. He should know by now that Klaus didn’t have a shred of dignity left in him. His nose wrinkled in disgust, “And why couldn’t you have come with your... clothes on?”

“I thought it’d be funnier if somebody saw a half-naked teen on the roof rather than an Umbrella hoe.” (Lies, he refuses to die in his uniform).  
“But why the roof?”  
“Nice view.” (More like a nice height).  
“Well seeing you kinda ruins that view... for everyone.”  
“Hasn’t it always though?” (His face was blank).

The ghost fell silent, noticing an odd look on his sibling’s face. The boy stared down below them, having yet to make eye contact with him; there was a heavy dreariness to his words and perhaps a hint of sadness? Ben wasn’t sure if he ever heard Klaus ever sound like that.

“I can’t believe you ditched me,” Six commented, hoping to test the atmosphere; was Four actually sad, or was this all some practical joke? Should Six be worried for him or was Four just trying to get under his skin again? He wasn’t sure. Klaus wore a mask of steel; flippant was his middle name, facetious was his second superpower. Only special training pried that mask off and the raw brokenness that was hidden beneath was such a splash of cold water to the face that Ben couldn’t stand to look for long. 

“Impressive, huh? I wasn’t sure how long it would be before you found me; I guess not long.”  
There was no mirth in his tone but the words sounded like his usual carefree self. It was very confusing.  
“Well if I was any other ghost, I probably would have followed you in there. It seems that you’re taking advantage of my kindness.”

Klaus did not scoff or roll his eyes like Ben was expecting, instead, his irises seemed to cloud over like he was in another world far from this side of reality.  
A wry half-smile tugged on his lips. “Ah yes, I’m awful, aren’t I?”

“The worst.” There was no spite or malice in his words, not even irritation. Ben’s gaze was softened to almost a point of pity but he was too stubborn to give in to his sibling’s charms (love-hate relationships were typical with Klaus. Ben wanted to keep it a hate-hate but he found it harder lately; of course it’s difficult when your greatest rival growing up is the only person you can communicate with). 

“What’s on your mind, Benny?”  
The ghost frowned as Klaus sat dangerously close to the ledge, his legs dangling over and kicking mindlessly through the air. “Obviously you, idiot.”  
He didn’t like the smug raise of an eyebrow, choosing to add on before Klaus could get too big for his britches: “All ghosts think about you; we can’t exactly talk to anyone else on our minds.”

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say because the teen wilted instantly, eyes dimming even more.  
“Yes, of course. How silly of me,” he said quietly, “That must be quite lonely.”  
“It… is.” Ben’s brow furrowed slightly in confusion; his sibling was an enigma. What was his ploy here? Why was he agreeing with everything and letting him make observations on things Klaus would normally defend that Ben had no idea what he was talking about? What was he hoping to achieve? And now sympathizing with him? Ben wasn’t sure what else to say.

It was quiet between them as Klaus watched the cars go by detachedly. 

“You think…” the boy began, his fingers drumming against the dark tiles, “anyone would notice if I fell?”  
Ben felt himself blink in surprise (it made him feel more human). What kind of question was that? He wanted to say people would most definitely notice his dead body, he wanted to say that Pogo would find him as he goes out to fetch the mail. He wanted to question who in their right mind asks their dead brother that. But instead, he sat down next to him and sighed.  
“I mean I would notice, I’m kinda right here,” he replied solemnly, placing his hands in his lap and examining Klaus’s face for any indication of what he was truly feeling. What did Klaus want him to say? Were these supposed to be humorous hypotheticals or subtle cries for help?

“Yeah… then you’d be even more alone, huh?” The medium leaned back on his hands, “And the dead aren’t the best company, I can imagine; you do see them now, don’t you?”  
He opened his mouth but then closed it, choosing to just nod; sarcastic comments and witty retorts were failing him at the moment.  
“Well if it makes you feel any better, the living haven’t been the best of company either. I don’t expect things to be the same after you… you know… but it’s strange to feel alone in a room full of people that I’ve spent my whole life around. The house is quiet, even suffocating at times; Diego, Allison, and Vanya are planning on leaving and I- I... I’m sorry they don’t believe me when I say you’re there; maybe things would be different if...” he trailed off, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth. 

Then it dawned on Ben: Klaus was lonely. He thought so highly of all of his siblings yet, just like Ben, couldn’t talk to any of them because they didn’t want to. It was almost worse to be in a room full of your family members and being completely ignored simply because they hated you than to be standing there and ignored because you were dead. They all loved Ben, they all missed Ben; if he was alive, they would have talked to him. Klaus is alive and treated like he was better off being dead- oh god: he knew exactly why Klaus was on the rooftop. 

He tried to sound reassuring as he said, “Everyone was miserable even before I died; them leaving was inevitable.” He had a feeling that his attempt fell short. He knew he sounded bitter, he knew he sounded uncomfortable. He was never good at helping his siblings work through their emotions, especially now that he was having to comfort the sibling he couldn’t stand.  
“Do you think they would notice if I… if I left too?”

“Well yeah, Dad would get mad that you’re not at the dinner table and then they would all have to wait until- Um, of course they would…” The ghost wanted to kick himself for sounding so blunt; surely one of their siblings liked Klaus enough to notice if he left, right? Maybe Diego? Klaus did defend him that one time… Maybe Allison? He tended to steal her stuff every now and then… 

“Ok, yes, they would notice… but do you think they would want to know where I went? Want to know what happened to me? You think they’d care enough to ask?”  
Without thinking, Ben blurted out, “They’d all think you went out to get high or drunk.” 

Klaus’s eyes dimmed even more (if it was even humanly possible) and then Ben wanted to freaking strangle himself because that came out before he even gave it a second thought; the habit of constantly degrading Klaus was not helping at the moment, not at all. He was trying to not be a dick for once but harsh and snide comments towards Klaus is all he knows. He should really work on that; the afterlife wouldn’t be too enjoyable if he was the driving force behind his sibling’s suicide. “Wait uh- I didn’t mean to-”  
“No, you’re absolutely correct; they would,” Klaus shrugged but his gaze was steely on the street, “That’s all I do now, anyway.”

Six’s frown deepened. He couldn’t really disagree with that. “Well… you’re alive, people can change. You can always prove them wrong; leave and do something great. Then, they’ll feel bad and-”  
“But why should I care about what they think of me? I’m tired of trying to prove myself; wouldn’t it be easier to become their exact vision of me?”  
“How would that change anything-”  
“It wouldn’t but, you know, I don’t want their pity or maybe slight guilt; the thing about people is that once they are doubtful of someone, they tend to ignore or downgrade the good things about them. I could leave, maybe go to college or something… but would they really see me any differently or even believe me? Would I be happier knowing that I became the one thing everyone wanted of me, that I gave in to the peer pressure? No, no I would not. That’s not who I am, I want to stay true to myself.”

Ben was irritated now, this conversation sounding kind of familiar. “You’re just being a stubborn idiot; is that your true self? You want to become some junkie on the streets? You want to continue being the disappointment of the family?”  
How could Klaus even think about wasting his life like this; it wasn’t fair. Ben had dreams, Ben had the acceptance and support of his family. Everything was ripped away from him in a matter of seconds and now Klaus was willing to take all he had for granted.

“Do I want any of that?” Klaus appeared offended, his brow furrowing ever so slightly, “Of course not. But sometimes fate is cruel and we don’t get what we want. I know, you know, we all know that if I leave this house, I’m going to become exactly what everyone sees me as and even if I didn’t, you’d all assume I did anyways; you proved it yourself when you assumed that I was going to become ‘some junkie on the streets’ if I left, I didn’t even need to suggest it because it was already your first thought of me.”

That’s when Six realized that his sibling set him up; Klaus led him right into a trap that confirmed that they all saw him as a junkie already, that they would assume the worst and doubted that he had actual dreams of his own. Fuck, Ben was no better than the rest of them! He could try to be supportive, he could try to coax Klaus that their siblings cared but in the end, Klaus knew it was all an act and a lie. He wanted the confirmation, he manipulated it out of him. Ben felt stupid and kind of ashamed. He was a horrible brother, huh? All of them were horrible; why did he ever think he was so much better than Klaus? Nobody deserves a family like this… not even an annoying, broken, junkie in the making. 

“Y-You’re right. But… but jumping off this building, right here right now… It’s not going to make things any better. People can change, we can be better. Mortality can’t though; once you’re dead Klaus, you’re dead forever.” The annoyance dissipated, being placed with fear and regret and hurt and guilt. He fears that they won’t get better and Klaus will leave him, he regrets that he died before he realized that Klaus craved love and acceptance just like him, he is hurt that he became as heartless as their father, he is guilty that he wishes he never had to have this conversation. He’s pathetic and selfish, isn’t he?

“But you want that, don’t you?”  
The Horror lurched forward in his chest and Ben felt absolutely alive (for just a mere moment) enough to puke right then and there. His face blanched and the guilt increased ten-fold. “God no, Klaus, why would I ever-”

“If I die, the tether breaks. You can leave, then. You get your revenge; your killer is dead. You don’t have to be miserable anymore; you can pass on to the void or the afterlife or wherever the little girl wants you.”  
Ben is horrible, horrible! He is swarmed with the thoughts of their conversation about the tie; he is stuck on a replay of all the things he has said that would have made Klaus think that. Of course Klaus would think that; who wouldn’t after the way he has acted? Klaus was willing to die for him and he has… done nothing but encourage it!

“No! I don’t want you to die!” He cries, “Especially because of me! You think I’d be able to go to the afterlife with that kind of guilt?!”  
Fuck, that came out wrong. He sounds so full of himself and insensitive. Oh God, he didn’t mean it like that. Why can’t he take it back? Why can’t he apologize right now? What the hell is wrong with him?

“Sorry, I didn’t think of that… but it wouldn’t be purely because of you so you wouldn’t have to feel gu-”

“Shut up Klaus! Just shut up! You don’t know me, you don’t know what I want!”  
He was so angry, so very angry. He’s angry at himself, he’s angry at his siblings, he’s angry at Klaus. Why was he such an asshole? Why were his siblings so inconsiderate? Why would Klaus assume that he was better off dead? He’s so mad that he imagines spit flying from his mouth, he imagines his veins bulging from his forehead. He didn’t notice that Klaus flinched.

“Why would I want my own brother to die?! Don’t you know how miserable and lonely and awful death is? Why would I wish that on anyone?! Do you want to die? You think that will make me or anyone else happy? You think that would make YOU happy?”  
Klaus slowly puts his hands on his ears, his eyes scrunching shut. “Ben…”  
“No! I’m not done! I’m scared of moving on! I’m scared of what will happen to me if you’re gone! How do you know I’ll even be able to pass on?! How do you know know that once I see you in the afterlife I wouldn’t want to beat the shit out of you for being so stupid?!" The teen whimpered, curling in on himself. "People shouldn’t want to die, Klaus; they shouldn’t! You think no one will care but I’m telling you right now that I will! You are young! You have a long life ahead of you! Don't die for me and waste literally everything you've been so gratefully given! Damnit you are such an idiot for thinking I'd be ok with this! They are all idiots for letting you think like this-”  
“Ben!”  
The ghost froze, seeing Klaus shaking and breathing heavily.  
“I'm sorry, okay? I w-won't do anything. Just, please… s-stop yelling.”

That broke Ben immediately; he deflates and his expression falls because he had just turned into all the other ghosts, huh? He told himself that he was never going to become one of them; he promised himself that he wouldn’t become a mindless, screaming, unfortunate soul that pours his rage on Klaus simply because he can hear him. Klaus is on the verge of a panic attack and it’s all his fault; he makes everything worse, doesn’t he?

Six tries to grab his shoulder, to be comforting and all, but his hand phases through and Klaus shies away from the ghastly chill and Ben just stares at his hand in disgust and betrayal. He clenches his fists and feels the guilt and sadness overpower all other emotions. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, “I’m so sorry for making you feel like this. I won’t turn into one of them, I promise. We can get better, your life can be better. I can’t speak for everyone, but I’ll work on being better, ok? I swear, Klaus, I’ll help you get through this. Just please, don’t leave me… I don’t want to be alone anymore and you don't have to feel alone anymore, let me be there for you; you’re my brother. Let me be your brother.”

`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.

“Where are you going?” the question is asked softly because Ben already knew the answer; he’s been expecting this moment for weeks.  
Klaus paused from his shoving of valuables into his backpack; he looked up with a slightly crazed grin. “Pack your ghostly things, Benny. We’re getting out of here.”

It was inevitable that they all were going to leave eventually; everyone except Luther already did sometime last week. But while they had plans, Klaus did not. And while they had their shit together, Klaus wouldn’t even know where to start. They knew where they were going, they knew what their futures held; and what scares Ben the most is that Klaus’s whole life was about to become unpredictable and impulsive whims. 

He gave a tired smile. “Just remember to eat something before you leave.”  
The teen rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah, Mom. I know I'm thin but I'm not emaciated.”

Klaus didn’t stay for dinner; he grabbed a granola bar and immediately left through the front door. Nobody would miss him at the table anyways. 

But just in case Luther wanted someone to talk to, there was a poorly finished origami crane forgotten at his bedside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I'm honestly not sure where I'm going with this right now... Season two just really threw me off my game haha


	8. Ouroboros

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can't escape your past, no matter how hard you try to forget it; all you can do is learn from it to keep from making the same mistakes.
> 
> But now that they've both messed up plenty of times, the serpent is eating its own tail.
> 
> Ben desires to fix that even if it seems that it is too late.  
> And Klaus, well, he could never be more grateful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all: here we are, the final chapter.  
> I wasn't sure how long this story was going to be when I first started it but after the ending of the last chapter, it is under the assumption that the rest of the story followed the canon-compliant chain of events leading up to them sitting in Ray and Allison's living room (so yes, big time skip but... there is some canon divergence here and we get a happy ending soooo it's ok.) 
> 
> I hope you enjoy~

“We’ve come full circle, you know.”

Ben lifts his head to peer at the medium inquisitively. The man had his feet kicked up onto the Chestnut’s coffee table, his arms crossed and head tilted back to stare at the ceiling. Ben wished the sofa was a little bigger so there could be some space between them; he didn’t like his personal bubble being violated.  
“What are you blabbering about now?” The ghost responds exasperatedly, not very fond of his brother at the moment and choosing to roll his eyes as he sinks further into the seat with a scowl on his face. 

“You and me, time… it’s all looping over on itself.”  
“I don’t have the patience to deal with your prophetic wisdom bullshit-”

Klaus’s face melted into something more wistful and reminiscent, continuing undeterred from Ben’s hostility. “We didn’t get along growing up: fought all the time, said mean things, did even meaner things… You wanted nothing to do with me when we were little, I wanted nothing to do with you when we were older.”

The ghost’s bitter expression falls. Klaus had his full attention now and he wasn’t sure if this shift in conversation was a good thing…

“And then we got better; we matured. And soon we went from acquaintances to brothers, from brothers to friends, and from friends to best friends and look at where we are now! Right back where we started, Voller Kreis; you hate my guts, I can barely stand to look at you… We can’t even trust each other.”

This time when Ben’s brow furrowed, it was not because of anger but because of confusion and hurt. “Why would you say that?” he questions, “Our bickering and tension now are nothing like the times before.”

Klaus glances at him out of the corner of his eyes. “How so?”  
“Because… Because before, I did it out of real hatred.”

The medium’s head shifts fully in his direction now, lids narrowing in a studying manner.  
“Just because I’m mad at you and we are really at each other’s throats lately, doesn’t mean all of our time together has gone down the drain. It doesn’t mean that I care about you any less, you fleshy idiot,” the ghost jabs Klaus’s knee with his foot in a teasing manner, a hesitant and subtle smile on his face, “I can hate your guts while still calling you my brother; I can still want to punch you while calling you my best friend. Life happens, people change, but don’t you ever think that things are back to the way they were in the academy, alright? Because they are not, they are so NOT.”

There’s a bit of shame and guilt apparent on Klaus’s face as he averts his gaze to the coffee table. “Yeah, we’re a package deal: if I can’t forget my trauma, then neither can you,” he jokes weakly.

“After all of this blows over, we need to talk; I’m tired of walking on eggshells around each other. It shouldn’t have to be like that,” Ben said firmly, “We can work this out when you’re ready.”

Klaus seemed a bit reluctant to agree, his lips pressed into a thin line as he gave a very small nod (he was never one for confrontation). 

Some relief fills Ben, a little bit of the tension in his shoulders lifted for now. “Just so you know, I don’t hate all of you… I didn’t mean what I said when we- When I...”

The medium’s face softens into a weary smile, “Well, I could never hate your face, brother dear-”  
“Just 85% of you; sometimes 90… Depends on how irritating you are being,” the ghost made sure to tack on with an innocent smirk, watching as Klaus rolls his eyes before grinning.

He shrugs, “That’s good enough for me.” 

`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.

The void used to always be a presence in the back of his mind, something that dangled like a loose string ready to pull. He was never really sure how he got there, he would just kind of mentally reach for the thread that tied him back to the dark place and he’d tug and when he opens his eyes, he’d be surrounded by silent darkness.  
The string disappeared a long time ago, though: an alternate one taking its place that tied him to the human world. It used to be there because he wanted revenge on his killer but that reason faded with his mortal grudges more than a decade before. He stuck around for a different reason, held onto the old disintegrating rope like a lifeline because of a different purpose. And no matter how bad it got, he told himself that the tether to his brother was better than the one to the void could ever be.  
But now, he does not feel the looming presence of the different tether in its place; nothing happens as he reaches out to tug where the seventeen-year-old string once was.

But that’s okay, he tells himself, because he rescued Vanya; he saved the world, he could rest easy now. He had no unfinished business as far as he knew: he protected his siblings and got to talk to some of them one last time so that seemed better than nothing.  
Well, it was unfortunate that he and Klaus never got to work things out and he never got to say goodbye (or “Thank you for putting up with me” or “You are a great brother; I’m sorry it took me a while to realize it”) but that was just water under the bridge now… There was no use fretting over it, right? 

He’s at ‘peace’, he’s ‘content’. Having regrets and second-thoughts now would be pointless and just drive him insane… right?

In the void, he had no sense of time; he could sit there swallowed up by his own thoughts for minutes or even days and it would all feel the same: just a blurring montage of his darkest secrets and desires crippled by his depressing reality.  
He thought that when the tether was broken, he’d go to some version of heaven with bike paths and a little girl said to be God or something (that’s what he was told a very long time ago at least); but the scenery has yet to change. He is just floating through the swallowing obsidian sea of nothingness but this time, there was no light to guide him (no sense of someone needing help to pull him out). 

He had no unfinished business; this was his afterlife. He’s at peace, he is content.  
This hasn’t come full circle. He isn’t some newly dead kid hoping for his brother’s light to beckon him so he could torment his least favorite sibling in an attempt to cover up his own loneliness and fear; he chose to be here this time, he knows what awaits him and he has accepted it.  
Having regrets and second-thoughts now would be pointless and just drive him insane… He’s at rest, he’s at rest.

Love-hate relationships were typical with Klaus. Ben wanted to keep it a hate-hate but he found it harder and harder as he got older; of course, it’s difficult when your greatest rival growing up is the only person you can communicate with but his brother wasn’t too bad. He was never too bad. He was just the right amount of crazy and stupid. Ben couldn’t even call it a hate-hate after a year; he would just be lying to himself. Some of his best memories happened when he was dead, and isn’t that sad? Crazy and stupid was fun; crazy and stupid taught him that Dad and their siblings weren’t always right; crazy and stupid taught him that it doesn’t matter what people think, what matters is if you’re happy.  
He misses the chaos and the bad jokes; he misses having a plate of waffles and glass of orange juice placed uselessly in front of him; he missed being tackled and smacked and pinched and poked; he missed being hissed at and insulted with fond eyes.  
He missed him. Did he ever tell him how much he means to him? 

He has no unfinished business. Having regrets and second-thoughts now would be pointless and just drive him insane… He’s at peace, at rest…

When Klaus falls asleep (if he could even sleep), Ben would wait for him to awaken. When Klaus goes to the bathroom, Ben would hover outside the door. When Klaus wants absolutely nothing to do with the dead, Ben would stubbornly stick to the outskirts of his vision. When Klaus was drowning in liquor, Ben would reread his book until he sobered up. Everything revolved around Klaus; it was KlausandBen. They were a package deal. But now it’s just Ben, it’s just thevoidandBen. Was Klaus feeling lonely without him? Did they even make it back to 2019? Does Klaus miss him? Does Klaus need him? Does he feel as lost as Ben does right now?

Stop, he has NO unfinished business. He IS at peace. NO second thoughts. He’s enjoying the restful afterlife. He’s content… and having these thoughts will drive him insane.

Number Four was the light that stands out in the darkness, the only gateway back to the living; he cut his tie, he can’t go back. Klaus can’t call him back. Why is he wanting to go back? He likes the dark, he likes the quiet; he most certainly isn’t lonely and most certainly isn’t having regrets. He knows that he’s dead and the dead don’t belong with the living. Before, he would have wanted to beg for some attention because the void was dark and quiet and boring and he was suffocating helphimhelphimhelphim. He would have felt pathetic for being this desperate for human contact. He would have felt pathetic for being killed by his own powers. He would have felt pathetic for wanting to go to Klaus. He knows that he’s the strong and courageous one, the independent brother that could take care of himself and learned to never rely on anyone; he can handle this void because it was his afterlife. He is all he gets. 

Having regrets and second-thoughts now would be pointless and just drive him insane… Peace and rest, peace and rest, peace and rest…

He’s spiraling. He can’t take it. It’s TOO dark, it’s TOO quiet. He wants out. He wants to go back. How long has he been gone? Why isn’t there more to his afterlife? Why did Klaus lie to him about going somewhere more than the void? HE WANTS FREE. LET HIM OUT LET HIM OUT LET HIM OUT. He’ll be better, he swears; just let him talk to somebody at least. He can’t do this. God, forgive him for the terrible things he has done to deserve a cruel fate such as this. Please let him out, please let him go back.  
He knows he’s screaming and shouting into the abyss but he can’t hear anything; can somebody hear him? He prays that Klaus can hear him; would he call him back if he could hear him? 

Having regrets and second-thoughts now would be pointless and just drive him insane… He’s going insane, isn’t he? Is this how ghosts lose their humanity? Maybe it would be best if Klaus couldn’t hear him; maybe he’s just another hollow vengeful spirit.  
Peace is nonexistent. There is no rest for the wicked.  
Does Klaus know that he loves him?  
Rest in peace, rest in peace, rest in peace (in pieces?)...

What scares Ben the most is that Klaus’s whole life was about unpredictable and impulsive whims; he needed guidance, he needed Ben. Ben needs to be there. Call him back. Please let him go back. He takes back what he said: he has unfinished business, he doesn’t want the tether broken. He doesn’t want to lose his grip on his humanity and slip into nothingness; he wants his family, he wants his brother. If he can go back, he’ll never ask to leave again; he’ll be better, he’ll be grateful. He’d rather be there, surrounded by people who don’t know he’s with them than to waste another minute here. He’d rather have Klaus be an asshole to him for all eternity than stay in this darkness a moment longer.  
He has never said that he loves and appreciates him. He never got to stick up for him and tell their family to treat him better. If he can’t go back because he misses his family, at least let him go back to be there for Klaus.

He doesn’t like it here; let him go back. He’s having regrets. He’s having second thoughts. He is going insane-  
Far off in the distance, a pale blue light is flickering. His eyes widen; perhaps he is imagining things? Perhaps he has finally lost his brain… He walks towards it slowly at first, not wanting to get his hopes up. But as he gets closer, there’s a warm sense of familiarity washing over him. He can hear a voice, a quiet voice, whispering, “I just want you to be happy.” And it’s comforting and safe and he knows exactly where it will lead him.

He’s sprinting towards the light now, frantic pleads to wait just a little bit more for him rolling out of his mouth faster than his legs were moving.

“Just know that I’m happy if you are; no matter your choice.”  
Almost there, almost there.

“You are my favorite brother, Ben.”  
He barrels himself through the fading glow, tumbling onto what he could assume is a wooden floor by the roughness of his not-so-graceful landing.

He squints against the bright light assailing his ghostly irises, hearing a small gasp.  
There is a man standing in front of him with fashionable black attire and a cowboy hat. 

Ben grins as astonished green eyes meet his. “You sappy son of a bitch: you’re my favorite brother too. Why would I want to leave?”

`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.`.

"It's your turn, Klaus."  
"Y-Yeah, okay. Give me a s-second…"

It was game night in the Hargreeves household. They’ve been playing Uno for a while after a one hour game of Pictionary (which Five had angrily claimed wasn't fair because Ben, Klaus, and Diego shared the same brain cell and could guess correctly on even the stupidest of drawings), a half an hour game of Life (why was Allison so lucky in that game?), and a two hour game of Cutthroat Caverns (a certain strategic ghost’s absolute favorite).  
Ben got to play every game, thanks to his brother’s corporeality powers, and was having the time of his life (death?) defeating his siblings and actually getting to join in the outraged arguments that ensued (they’ve always been competitive). 

He smiles at Klaus but notices a weariness in his eyes, sweat dotting his forehead and hands slightly shaky. Ben could hear the exhaustion in his voice and knew that this was probably a stretch for the medium’s abilities, never keeping the ghost 100% corporeal for so many hours at a time. He was proud of his brother for holding it out this long (and slightly surprised but still extremely grateful) but feared that he might pass out any second. 

“Hey, we can stop if you want to,” he mumbled quietly in Klaus’s ear. His brother shied away in an attempt to hide his cards.  
“No, no, I’m fine Benny dear. J-Just worry about this plus four I’m about to hit you with.”

“Aw damn it; I only had two cards left!”  
“Ha, suck it.”

Well if Klaus was truly ok, then maybe he could play a little longer. Somebody had to win eventually, right?

The turns cycle through three more times before the medium's gaze became glaringly unfocused and he could barely comprehend the cards that were being played.  
“That’s a plus two, Klaus. You don’t get to put anything down,” Ben reminded a couple of times, frowning as his brother would just mutedly nod his head.

As Luther begins to place down his second-to-last card, the ghost’s hand falls to the floor with a soft whoosh and he just blinks down a few times at his incorporeal fingers before his head snaps to Klaus.  
The man was slumped over, palms to his forehead and breaths borderline shallow. 

“Wait, where’d Ben go?” Luther questions, glancing around.  
All eyes turn to where he used to be sitting before fixing the medium with a hard stare.  
Klaus looks at Ben immediately, his haze seeming to disperse momentarily by panic, saying, “Shit shit shit, hold on; I can do it, I can bring you back j-just-”  
The ghost shakes his head. “No, it’s fine; I’m kind of done with game night for today,” he lies with an assuring smile, “Go ahead and rest. You’ve done enough.”

“Well?” Diego asks impatiently.  
“I-I… I think that’s all the juice I got in the tank today, sorry,” he mumbles, averting his gaze to the forgotten cards on the floor to avoid the varying expressions of disappointment on his siblings’ faces.

"I guess all that drinking yesterday dampened your powers…" Diego says under his breath as Luther sets aside his cards as well.  
The large man adds, "Well it's no fun winning if Ben isn't here."

The ghost crosses his arms and shoots them a glare. "But I am here."  
"He is here," Klaus parrots, "He's just going to watch."

"Can't you at least let him finish the game? It was about to be over."  
"Yeah, come on Klaus, don't you just have a teensy bit left in you? It's not the same without him."  
"You've been sober for three years and you're telling me you still don't have complete control over your powers?"  
"Do it for Ben; he deserves it after everything you've put him through…"

The medium's jaw shifted and Ben could tell that he was trying to bring him to visibility again but the blue glow never came, just clenched fists and a blanched face.

"Stop Klaus, you're going to hurt yourself," Ben scolds, "Don't listen to them. I'm fine, really. Please go lay down before you hit your head on something."

"I'm sorry, I can't," Klaus says bleakly, to whom he was addressing wasn't very clear as his eyes remained on the floor. "I guess I'm a bit out of practice."  
Vanya appears sad but understanding as she replies, "That's alright; tell Ben it was nice playing with him."

The ghost rolls his eyes. "Would it hurt for them to listen? What part of 'I am here' do they not understand?"  
The medium snorts at his comment but the others seemed to misinterpret, thinking that he was mocking either their quietest sibling or the dead one or both (no matter the reason, it made them angry all the same).  
“I think he did it on purpose,” Diego hisses suddenly, throwing down his cards, “How convenient that when you have like half the deck, one of the players goes missing. What: can you not win without cheating?”

Klaus’s eyes widened. “No, no that’s not- I didn’t mean- I wasn’t…” His gaze darts to Ben in a searching manner but the ghost is not really sure what he could do so he just grimaces apologetically and shrugs his shoulders. “I just haven’t kept him corporeal for that long before; I’m drained.”

“I believe him; I don’t think he let Ben disappear on purpose. He’s just weaker with his powers is all,” Allison supplies but the ghost wasn’t sure if he agreed with the execution of the defense (She merely replaced the title of cheater with namby-pamby and was that really any better?)

“Well, it’s not like his powers are the easiest to train,” Five mumbled, his brow furrowed in contemplation.  
“Neither is Vanya’s,” Diego cut in, “Yet she has mastered them in less time than he’s been sober.”

Ben scowled and raised his eyebrows incredulously. “Mastered?” he and Five questioned simultaneously. Klaus fought off the urge to snort again. 

“She has caused the apocalypse. Twice. (No offense, Vanya.) I’d hardly call that mastery of her abilities,” their smallest brother said dully, eyes rolling in exasperation.  
Luther mumbles, “But Ben has been with him for… how long and he’s just now giving our brother his life back? Why didn’t he practice these abilities a while ago?”  
Five didn’t seem to have an answer for that, turning his attention to the medium who had gone strangely quiet during the argument (even though he was the subject). 

Klaus bites his lip and Ben sees the very second that the steel mask of flippancy slips into place (it was his brother’s go-to defense mechanism; old habits die hard).  
The man looks up at them and gives a sickly sweet grin (it was wry and fake; they either didn’t notice or didn’t care) as he shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. “What can I say?” He huffs and the ghost knows that the next comment will do nothing but egg them on further, “Daddy had to be right about something, right?”

Vanya, Five, and Luther stare at him curiously.  
Allison looks away and Diego grows more irritated. 

“I don’t get it,” their shortest sister confesses, exchanging glances with the others.  
“Think about it,” Diego sneers, “What did Dad use to always call Klaus?”

It’s silent for a few moments as they reflect; Ben frowns as Klaus seemed to shrink in on himself a little more but the carefree expression still stubbornly graced his features. 

“A fool?”  
“A disaster?”  
“A hooligan?”

“Here: let me jog your memory,” Diego clears his throat and then says in his best impression of their father, “You are my greatest disappointment, Number Four.”

The flinch is subtle; Ben would have missed it if he wasn’t studying his brother’s reaction cautiously.  
Luther titters, “Hey that wasn’t too bad; you sounded just like him!”  
Allison chuckles quietly, admitting, “I am impressed; I didn’t think you had it in you, Diego.”

“Yes yes, Di’s a natural; can I go to bed now?” Klaus attempts to dismiss himself, his tone a hint more pleading than hopeful. Everybody seemed to ignore him.

“Ah, I do recall hearing that,” Five says in vague amusement.  
Vanya attempts to hide her smile. “I thought you were going to do the ‘You have the potential for greatness but you decide to poison yourself, Number Four’.”

Klaus grits his teeth, eyes hazy.  
Ben’s hands clenched tightly at his side, the only one of their siblings not giggling immaturely at the impressions (even Number Four himself gave a phony and rather uncomfortable chuckle).  
The medium shifts, foot bouncing anxiously against his other leg. “Ok, very funny,” he said all too airily, “but I’d rather not relive my trauma anymore-”  
“What’s that, Number Four? You dare talk out of turn?” Luther questions in the old man’s voice, wanting to join in on the impressions, “When will you learn to respect my authority?”

They all laugh at the horrible imitation (even Five snickered), Klaus’s sharp and biting as his fingers squeezed the hem of his shirt in a death grip.  
But what finally pushed Ben to the breaking point was when Diego uttered, “Perhaps some special training is an order.” 

The medium had frozen at the dark implication, his mask cracking to reveal the raw pulsating nerve that was being unknowingly pressed on repeat.  
The ghost marched forward, willing the weak thrumming of energy between him and Klaus to just his hands; he reached over Five’s head (the boy shivered in response) and slammed down one of the Pictionary notepads onto the center of the table. Their siblings jump and the laughter dies immediately. 

“Uh… Vanya?” Allison warily asks but their other sister is already shaking her head.  
“That wasn’t me.”

Ben smirks wickedly, pulling the pencil out of the spiraled portion of the pad.  
Everybody stares with watchful eyes; Diego’s hands fiddle with a knife and Five is sitting painfully erect in his seat. 

He sends a wink to Klaus and the man inhales sharply in confusion before the ghost flings the pad open to the first blank page. Luther leaps from his seat, knocking his chair over. Breathes were held in anticipation.

‘WE HAVE NAMES,’ he writes in all caps to add to the spooky ghost-writing effect, ‘DAD’S NOT HERE SO STOP ACTING LIKE HE IS.”

While their siblings turn into deers in headlights and glance frantically at each other, Klaus just stares at Ben with his mouth agape. 

“Is it… Do you think it’s..?” Vanya asks weakly. All eyes turn to Klaus but he sees no one else except for the brother sitting cross-legged in the middle of the table.

Luther fixes his seat and takes on the expression of a kicked puppy. “Ben, we were just joking-”

He louers, flipping the page. ‘I’M SURE KLAUS WOULD PREFER YOU USING HIS NAME WHEN MAKING FUN OF HIM ABOUT SOMETHING YOU COULD NEVER UNDERSTAND.’

Diego looks at Klaus with a small frown. “But you were laughing too… You could have told us to stop if it was truly bothering you.”

Ben knocked twice on the table to turn the attention back to him. ‘HE’S TRYING HIS BEST TO BE BETTER; JUST LIKE ME, JUST LIKE YOU GUYS. WE HAVE TO BE PATIENT AND SUPPORT EACH OTHER. WE’RE A FAMILY, ACT LIKE IT.’

“Sorry Klaus,” Vanya mumbles, “He’s right: we don’t know how your powers work or what you’ve been through. We’ll try our best to be better, too.”

It was silent for a few moments as varying degrees of guilt crossed everyone’s face; except Ben who appeared smug and Klaus, well… He seemed unusually bashful. 

Finally, Diego uncrosses his arms. “Thank you for giving us an opportunity to spend some family time with Ben. Go and rest, buddy. I’ll wake you up when it’s dinner time,” he offered as an olive branch, an unsure smile on his face. Klaus’s mouth upturns, knowing this was as close to an apology as he was going to get. 

Their biggest brother shifted. “I can carry you to your room, if you need it,” Luther awkwardly added.  
Five muttered into his glass while avoiding eye contact, “Or I could jump you there.”

Klaus’s expression softens, exhaustion seeping back into his green eyes. He stretched his arms and gave a small yawn. “Danke, meine lieben Brüder, but I think I can get to my room on my own.”

“Call us if you need anything,” Allison said in a concerned mother voice, looking at him apologetically, “Dinner will be ready in a few hours, Klaus.” 

The medium just waves and begins his ascent upstairs; the ghost didn’t hesitate to release the borrowed energy and leap down from the table to chase after his brother.

~

Number Four flops on the bed with a heavy sigh, feeling a chilly presence settle next to his foot.

Klaus turns his head to peer at his brother curiously, commenting, “You didn’t have to say all that, you know. They weren’t completely wrong about me not using the last thirty-ish years wisely.”

Ben’s sentimental expression didn’t waver. He replied simply, “I know.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “Bringing you to the physical world a few times isn’t going to erase all the fucked up stuff I did in Dallas.”

“I know.” The ghost leaned back against the wall as his gaze settled on the empty bed across from them. “Just like being nice to you a few times now doesn’t erase all the fucked up stuff I did when we were kids.”

Klaus props up on his elbow with a small frown. “I’m not mad; don’t even worry about that.”  
Ben’s lips pursed. “I’m not worrying about it.”

He looks at him puzzledly. “Then why defend me? Why tell them to back off while they are bringing up the past?”

Number Six says with a quirk of his lips, “Because you’re my brother, dumbass. Nothing you do or say will ever change that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So no Sparrow Academy or Reginald or dead-dead Ben. Yay, right?
> 
> Thank you for reading. This was my first ever chaptered story and, man, was it a learning experience. I'll be getting back to Let It Rot soon (chapter three is already halfway done) and I also have a new one-shot I'm working on (as well as finishing up the conclusion to one of my series) so I will have more work soon!
> 
> I hope to hear from you in the future <3

**Author's Note:**

> Yay I didn't write Horrance for once. Don't sue me.


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